


Kim Possible: The End

by Molloy



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 36
Words: 230,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molloy/pseuds/Molloy
Summary: Kim Possible is dead; yet she remains ... "alive." And the only person who knows she's there is the daughter of her very best friend.Inspired by the characters and events in MrDrP's story "Final."
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kim Possible: Final](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/536851) by MrDrP. 



With thanks and love to MrDrP and his family.

* * *

Kim Possible: The End

* * *

**Book I**

If there is a reason why we are here, it is to ease one another's suffering.

\- Allen Ginsberg

* * *

I.

Kim Possible was in Hell.

That was the only explanation that made any sense.

As she stared balefully at nothing, her vision blurred by tears, Kim tried to choke back the sobs that were burning the back of her throat. In frustration, she slammed her fists into the walls of the tiny cell she was in. Again. And again.

This act produced no visible effect upon her fists or the walls. However, it did result in pain reverberating from her hands to her shoulders. Worst of all, the act gave her no release, none at all.

The last thing she recalled before she found herself … _here_ was being in Middleton Park the day of the Senior Prom. She was picking up trash as part of an activity for a volunteer group she had founded. She had been enjoying herself and the day. Not only was this because she genuinely liked helping others (be it individuals or communities), but also because the activity was such that she could let her mind wander. That day, as it frequently had of late, her mind was orbiting around her boyfriend, Ron Stoppable. That night she and her best friend boy friend were going to the prom and, although he would deny that she needed to do any such thing, she was going to make up for all the unintentional pain she had caused him the previous year when she had initially taken _that thing Eric_ to the Junior Prom instead of her best friend.

The very last thing she could remember was hearing a rustling in the branches of the tree she was standing under. When she looked up, she had just enough time to catch sight of the unmistakable figure of Yori, masked and wearing her battle gi, looking down at her. Then Kim felt a sharp pain in her neck and then … nothing.

And then she was in this horrible place.

Trying to calm herself down, Kim hugged her knees to her chest tightly. After several minutes of trembling that was equal parts sorrow and rage, she discovered absently that she had stopped crying and that her breathing was almost normal.

_Why am I here? There has to be a reason._

Nothing obvious occurred to her.

True, she had never been the most regular churchgoer, but she did believe in God and always tried to do the right thing. She always tried to help people, and it wasn't something she did because it was expected or because it was something she was supposed to do. She sincerely liked doing it.

_And I'm a murder victim for God's sake! Why is this happening to me!_

She got herself back under control. Obviously, self-righteousness was a sin she couldn't deny she was guilty of.

She also couldn't deny that helping others had also brought along something else: fame. She knew she could be very prideful, even arrogant at times. And she most definitely had problems accepting that others might not be as driven as she. And, without question, she paradoxically had major issues with those who _were_ just as driven.

But she knew these feelings were wrong, and she was trying to overcome them. They had, after all, almost cost her the most important relationship of her life. And it was this relationship that was helping her to work through these weaker aspects of her nature.

As he had with everything else in what, she was beginning to realize, _had been_ her life, Ron had made her a better person.

_Ron …_

The burning sobs returned. And no matter how tightly she squeezed herself into a ball, the pain and the tears seemed as if they would never cease.

Why hadn't God sent her to a burning lake a fire? Or just left her in oblivion?

_Anywhere but here._

II.

"Ron!"

Immediately, Kim could tell that her best friend was majorly preoccupied with something because he was not smiling. He was also pacing around the room. Ron never paced unless he was worried about something. This room was so small that he kept almost running into the walls.

_Wait a minute … where are we anyway?_

"Ron, what's going on?"

He didn't look up at her. He just kept pacing. And then, quite suddenly, he let go with a violent kick that tore a hole in the right wall, revealing that the wall was actually a screen.

His sudden display of temper took Kim aback. That was so not like Ron. Then she noticed other things about him that didn't seem right either. For one thing, he looked taller than he had looked to her earlier that morning. And was that a goatee on his chin! And he was wearing … a-a gi?

 **Yori in a gi standing over her in the park.** Kim recalled the pain and immediately felt her neck; there was no pain now.

_What in the world is going on?_

Before she could start to process the avalanche of questions she had or untangle the images/memories/whatevertheywere spiraling in her mind, Kim was suddenly caught off guard when Ron looked directly at her.

Well, directly at _the space_ where she was standing.

It wasn't the fact that he was looking through her that shocked her. It was how his eyes looked that chilled Kim.

There were lines etched deeply underneath them, and his pupils looked … well … smaller. Almost as if they had shrunk or as if they had twisted back onto themselves, becoming denser, tighter in circumference. What gave credence to this impression was the fact their color had also changed, grown darker. Instead of the rich cocoa she remembered, they seemed a dull shade of umber.

She could take it no longer; she rushed to gather him in her arms. Whatever had happened to him, to her, to them, they could fix it. They could figure their way out of whatever this sitch might be, but she needed, and believed he needed, to be centered by an embrace. Just as she reached out to him, an excruciating trilling keen filled the air. It was so high-pitched that Kim reflexively shot her hands to her ears.

Ron had no reaction to the noise. He just stood as he had been standing as if he hadn't heard it. He was working his jaw back and forth, grinding his teeth with worry.

She attempted to reach for him again, but the keening returned. Again, there was no reaction from Ron.

To suggest that Kim wasn't getting emotionally distressed at this point would be utterly wrong. However, she was not going to give up either. Steadying herself, taking a few deep breaths and ignoring the shrill noise the best she could, Kim launched herself toward Ron.

Kim found herself on her rear some five feet away from Ron. It was almost as if there was an invisible boundary between them.

Sitting on the floor, propped up on her sore elbows, staring woundedly at her BFBF who did NOT see her and did NOT hear her, Kim started to cry.

She had no idea what was going on, but the sitch was so far beyond "bad" that she could only hope that the entire thing (Yori in the tree included) was some horrible nightmare.

Just then a dark shadow descended upon Ron. He shot a nervous look in the direction of the shadow's source. Behind the screen to his right, a pear-shaped outline had suddenly appeared. Kim instinctively knew the outline belonged to Sensei. For a second, Ron's eyes flashed a lighter color – for the first time they reminded Kim of the eyes she knew.

He hesitantly walked toward the outline and slid open the screen/door.

Sensei, with his usually implacable expression, stood silently for a few moments. Without looking at Ron, he spoke six toneless words: "It is as we had feared."

Ron immediately dropped to his knees. Instinctively, Kim wanted to rush to him. Despite the screams and the invisible "wall" that she knew surrounded him, Kim's heart compelled her to comfort him.

This time, it was Sensei who stopped her in her tracks.

"Stoppable-san!" He said in a tone that felt like a slap to her ears. "You do her no honor acting this way. Stand up!"

Kim had never heard Sensei sound so cruel.

"B-but, Sensei," Ron said, clambering awkwardly to his feet and drying his pooling eyes on the sleeve of his gi, "I can't … can't go through this again. To l-lose Kim and now to lose my wife—" he began.

Sensei held up his hand and silenced Ron. He then gave a disapproving look at the hole that Ron had torn in the wall a few minutes earlier. He cast a look of cold disfavor upon Ron's trembling frame and shook his head slowly. "Stoppable-san, you must collect yourself. This is _not_ the honorable way one grieves. Mariko will be here shortly. If you cannot honor yourself, you must honor her. And _me._ " Sensei left without a parting word.

Kim had hardly registered Sensei's admonition. Ron's words had left her shell-shocked and cold. The numbness began at her extremities and worked its way up her limbs and enveloped her chest cavity and solidified at the point that used to be her heart.

If all Kim had experienced in the last few minutes was real, then she was dead. Yori had murdered her. And now Ron was living some terrible life in Yamanouchi, and his wife … **his wife** … had just died. Although Kim didn't know for certain whom his wife had been, she _knew_.

"Yori!" Ron screamed at the top of his lungs as he collapsed on the floor.

Kim began crying hysterically, tears that physically hurt to shed. She wanted to rip through the walls of the dwelling and run as fast as she could in any direction until her heart exploded. She was half-way to her feet, when she glanced at Ron.

He was furiously clawing at the wood floor of the dwelling with his bare hands. It was as if he was trying to dig into the earth so he could hide from the sorrow that had enveloped him. As horrible as she felt and as much as she wanted to get as far away from this awful place as she could run, Kim could not abandon Ron in this state.

She threw herself at him, trying to calm his despair, to absorb it, to shield himself from himself.

The pain from the keening was overwhelming. She had come millimeters from embracing him before the shrieking invisible barrier tossed her rudely back against the floor.

Completely hysterical, Kim covered her ears with her hands and raced from the room. She found herself huddled in a corner of a small cell off the dwelling's main room. She wiped furiously at her running cheeks and mumbled words to half-forgotten songs over and over.

During a few minutes of calm that descended upon her quite unexpectedly, Kim was able to think clearly enough to reach the unavoidable conclusion.

This cramped dwelling was her own private corner of Hell.

III.

Kim was still shuddering from the sobs that felt like fire in her lungs, so she didn't hear someone enter the small room. And she didn't hear the small voice. She couldn't, in fact, hear anything but the pounding of her temples.

But she _did_ feel the tug at the tail of her shirt. Startled, she looked around and found herself staring at what appeared to be a miniature version of Yori.

The girl was maybe four or five years old with an olive complexion and jet-black hair. Kim blinked and immediately realized that although the little girl closely resembled Yori, there were also very distinct features about her that dispelled the illusion that Kim was looking at a younger version of the ninja who had killed her.

For one thing, the child had ears that were slightly larger than one would expect on a girl of her age. Second, under each eye, there was a light sprinkling of russet freckles. Finally, Kim noticed that her almond shaped eyes had pupils of pure cocoa. There was no mistaking whose eyes they were.

More importantly, these eyes were not looking through her but _at her_. The little girl could see Kim.

Then the girl spoke. Although Kim wasn't initially sure whether the language she was hearing was English or Japanese, she understood it as if it was English.

"Lady," the little girl asked, "a-are you okay?"

When Kim didn't answer, the girl tried another question.

"Are you one of my daddy's friends?"

This time Kim managed a slight nod.

Embolden by Kim's response, the little girl proceeded to ask a question that seemed most difficult for her.

"Why is my daddy crying?"

* * *

To be continued …


	2. Two

I.

Kim would always regret that her relationship with Mariko began with a lie. The guilt she felt whenever she recalled that first moment was compounded when she reflected that it wasn't the only lie she would end up telling the little girl.

But there it was. How could she, being who she was or rather _who she had been_ , do otherwise?

"I'm not sure, sweetheart. Have you asked him?" It had taken a lot of strength, strength Kim doubted she had at that moment, to make any utterance at all, let alone one that sounded convincing.

The little girl shook her head slowly. She sniffled.

"Why don't you ask him, sweetheart? I'm sure he'll tell you what's wrong."

The little girl shook her head emphatically this time, the curled ends of her jet hair brushing against her cheeks.

Kim repositioned herself on her knees, so she was at eye level with Ron's daughter. The little girl was looking down at the floor now however. "Why don't you want to ask your daddy?"

"Scared to."

Kim had thought-felt-hoped there would be no more shocks in store for her, but the little girl's answer made even this tenuous foundation fall away.

_Oh Ron …no._

She could tell from just the few moments she had been with him earlier that Ron was no longer the happy-go-lucky guy he had once been. Even before Sensei arrived with his news, she knew Ron had changed drastically. The agitation and even that explosive kick he gave the wall could be blamed on dread and nervousness. However, his eyes said the story went deeper than just that morning. Her best friend had been unhappy for a very, very long time.

_But unhappy enough to …_

As much as she hated imagining, let alone asking, the question, the little girl's sagging shoulders compelled her to do so. Kim swallowed and tentatively pushed ahead, "A-are you scared of your daddy?"

Blessedly, the little girl's head signaled "no" as emphatically as it had earlier.

_Thank goodness …_

"But then why are you scared to ask him, sweetie?"

"My questions make him sad. I just make him sad now." She raised her eyes, Ron's eyes, from the floor to meet hers.

The eyes cut Kim. Cut her inside deeply.

"Can you ask him?" the little girl asked.

Kim sighed and then she brightened, trying to channel as much Ronshine as was possible for her, "Let's go ask him together. Would that be okay?"

With just the first traces of a smile on her lips, the little girl nodded 'yes.'

Kim got to her feet and without thinking reached for the little girl's hand. It was pleasantly cool to the touch, but Kim could feel the pulsating warmth from deep inside steadily beating to the surface.

II.

Although she wasn't certain of her surroundings or even knew where to find Ron, it seemed natural to Kim to be leading the little girl by the hand as they went to look for him. Maybe it was just her years of baby sitting experience kicking in. Maybe something else.

_Ron, a father._

The emotional complexities in that statement were too much for Kim to deal with at the moment, so she forced herself to stay focused on what needed to be done. Ron and his little girl needed to be together right now, and she was going to do whatever she could to make that happen.

As Kim stepped out into the hallway, she took a quick look back at the tiny room. She caught her breath. There was a small mat rolled up in the corner. As unbelievable as it first seemed, that bare little corner of a room was the little girl's bedroom. Kim had thought the word "cell" when she first raced into it because that is what it reminded her of—a monk's (or a prisoner's) cell. Devoid of any personality. Sparse, barren, lifeless.

That such a place could be where a five-year-old spent a good part of her day was unimaginable to Kim.

The rather cramped hallway led only two places – to the main room where she had been earlier and to a closed door at its far end. The hallway was as bereft of personality as the little girl's room had been. It wasn't as if Kim would have expected to see posters of GWA stars on Ron's walls or anything (well, okay, actually, she would have), but Kim couldn't get past the feeling that all the austerity was countering all the things that had made Ron, when she knew him, who he was.

_Maybe that's the whole point._

Since she didn't see Ron in the larger room, she assumed he would be down the hall behind that other door in what she intuited was his room.

_Yori's and his room._

She shook her head a couple of times to clear all the unpleasant and mean thoughts that briefly cluttered her mind. Kim looked back down at the girl and gave her a reassuring smile. She could still not get over those eyes! Although there were still points of anxiety there, the little girl's coca eyes also seemed somewhat relieved, too.

They made their way down the hall, and when they got to the end Kim made to slide open the door. She hesitated. What awaited her on the other side of that door? What state would her best friend be in? How would she be able to get Ron to talk to his daughter? What if he saw the door suddenly fly open and his daughter just standing there alone, holding her arm up at a forty-degree angle? Being a ghost, if that was, in fact, what Kim was now, was going to be so complicated.

Remembering advice her mother had once given her for something that seemed so incredibly trivial now, Kim took a deep breath and reached up to slide open the door.

It didn't budge. She tried again, harder. Nothing. She gently freed her hand from Ron's daughter's grasp, and tried it again with both hands. Not a centimeter.

III.

Kim didn't get the feeling the door was locked. Nor did it feel too heavy to move. Even if she could call back Hego's strength from that time she and Ron visited Go City, Kim didn't believe she would able to slide the door open. The fact was she simply could not open it.

The little girl was frowning up at Kim. She wasn't exactly upset or even disappointed. Just really, really confused. With three of the fingers on her right hand, she reached out and effortlessly slid the cell's door open.

_Spankin'!_

With an embarrassed smile, Kim took the girl's hand and said, "Please and thank you."

Other than its slightly larger size, this cell was a duplicate of the little girl's.

_What is her name? I can't believe I haven't asked her yet!_

Still, the cell was not large enough for Kim to call it a "room." Like the rest of the "home," it was characterless. The only reason she knew it was the master bedroom was because of the two single mats unrolled in the center of the floor. Ron was on the mat on the left. The one on the right, the one he was facing, was empty.

_He looks awful. So pale. Is he shivering?_

As she cautiously shepherded daughter to father, Kim remembered that the girl's mat had been rolled up and placed against the wall. Had Ron unrolled both his mat and his wife's and then positioned them in the center of the room, like he was preparing for them to go to sleep together? It broke Kim's heart, in more than one way, to think of that, but it so felt like something the Ron she used to know would have done.

She looked down at the girl and with a smile gestured for her to stop where she was. Kim gingerly got down on her knees and inched closer to Ron so she could look into his eyes. They were no longer the hard umber marbles she had seen a few minutes before. The pupils were large, huge in fact, swelling with emotion and shaken with tremors and ticks. And even though tears were leaking from the corners of both eyes, she could tell that he was desperately trying not to lose control. Kim swallowed hard. Her first impulse was to reach out for him again or, knowing that was futile, start crying herself.

But the time was past for that. She was no longer alone. She had to be strong. This was **_not_** about her.

_Buy what can I do?_

IV.

Not long after Kim and Ron became friends in Pre-K, Kim lost her first best friend. Or, at least, whom she thought was her best friend at the time.

Ironically, she had been on her way to Ron's house when it happened. It was their first official play-date at Ron's house, and Kim's mother was walking her over. As much as she wanted to go, Kim was slightly unsure of herself because she had never been to Ron's house before and had felt a little uncomfortable around his mother the few times she had seen her pick Ron up from school. Ann Possible had had the bright idea of Kim taking along someone to make her feel more comfortable - her best friend, Pandaroo.

No one ever found out why the dog decided to "play" with Pandaroo that day. Despite his rather poorly chosen name and formidable breed, the Turner's Rottweiler Cujo, was usually a particularly friendly dog around children. Perhaps that was the problem; he was a bit too friendly.

In any case, he had gotten loose from the Turner's backyard. Since the Turner twins had yet to be born, their shenanigans couldn't be blamed. Apparently, Cujo had been ambling behind Ann, Kim, and Pandaroo for some time. Just as Ann started to realize they were being followed, the dog lunged at them and to Kim's shocked surprise took off with her best friend in his slobbery jaws.

Ann immediately started yelling at Cujo to bring Pandaroo back. To his credit, Cujo knew from Ann's cries that he was in the wrong. Almost immediately he returned with the plush to Kim's mom (which was a very good thing since Ann was only weeks away from delivering the tweebs and couldn't have chased after him anyway). Kim was too startled at first to do anything. In fact, she was in a daze until she got a good look at the dripping wet and slightly torn plush in her mother's hands. Kim was inconsolable, but not in the way Ann had anticipated. Sure, a few tears did leak from her eyes when she saw that Pandaroo's tail was practically detached from the rest of his body, but she did not bawl or sob uncontrollably. Rather, she got real quiet; her sadness was a dulling, disillusioning one. All Ann could get out of her was "Why?"

They walked back home in silence. Once inside, Kim languidly went to her room and collapsed on her bed. Ann called Ron's mom and told her what had happened and that Kim would unfortunately not be coming over that day. Barbara Jo suggested bringing Ron over instead; perhaps he could cheer Kim up. Once off the phone, Ann began her "surgery" upon Pandaroo.

Upstairs on her bed, four-year-old (soon to be five) Kim mulled over the morning's events in despair. How could it have happened? None of it made sense to her. She was a good girl. Pandaroo was her best friend. And Cujo was a good puppy (at that age Kim called all dogs "puppies"). And what if Mom couldn't fix Pandaroo? What if he had to be thrown away? A melodramatic (yet undeniably emotionally-charged) fantasy flashed across her mind. She saw herself, her cheeks streaming with tears, tossing her beloved Pandaroo into a garbage can and waving good-bye to him as she regretfully closed the lid. How lonely Pandaroo would be without her! Kim buried her face into her pillows and began crying in earnest.

Kim didn't recall falling asleep, but she must have. The light from her bedroom windows had shifted, and there were now shadows over most of her bed. She blinked her eyes and stretched out. She had just begun to think again about Pandaroo as her eyes wandered over her room and ... she gasped!

Just over the edge of her bed, a pair of eyes was staring intently at her. Her gasp elicited a flash of concern from the brown eyes. Then she recognized the tangled mop of blond hair above the eyes, those unmistakable ears, and the sprinkling of freckles beneath them.

 _Ron. "_ Ron!"

And then they were gone. She was just close to doubting that she had actually seen him when the top half of his head popped back up over the edge of her bed, a little further down than before, and then, just as quickly, disappeared again. She sighed. He was playing some silly game, probably trying to cheer her up. She didn't feel like being cheered up, so she covered her eyes with her left pigtail.

But she was still peeking through the strands. After what seemed a very long time, she didn't see him reappear. Finally, Kim sat up on one elbow and leaned as far over as she could without moving from her spot to see where he had gone. He wasn't there. She sat up and looked round. She gave a little cry when she discovered him (well, at least the top half of his head) staring at her from the OTHER side of the bed. He vanished again, but this time she heard him giggle.

"Ron!" she was annoyed. "I'm not playing this game!" She sat with her arms folded, a cross look on her face.

Nothing happened for a bit.

Then the top half of Ron's head appeared at the foot of her bed. Kim looked away. Ron's head disappeared quickly and then came up just a quickly in the same spot. Then down again. Then up. Again and again. Kim discovered that she couldn't keep from looking at him, so she covered her eyes with both pigtails. This tactic didn't work so well because as soon as Ron saw what she was doing, he laughed. This caused Kim to drop her pigtails and just catch sight of the warm, smiling eyes disappear at the foot of the bed once more. She let a smile escape.

Suddenly, the top half of his head was at her right elbow. The surprise was so sudden that she couldn't help but laugh. Then he was gone. She sat up to see what he was doing. Although she couldn't see him, she could just hear him scurrying on his hands and knees on the carpet to get to his next position. It wasn't too difficult to figure out where he was going to strike next. So when he popped his head up on the other side of the bed where he expected Kim's left elbow to be, he found himself looking directly into her blazing emerald eyes.

Neither reacted at first, but then both started laughing. They laughed for a good while. Kim was actually gasping for breath and her sides hurt, but every time she tried to stop she would see Ron laughing and start up all over again.

Finally, the gigglefest was broken by Ann calling from below that Pandaroo's surgery was over and had been a complete success.

"Yaaaaaay!" Ron cried. He smiled at Kim and tried to wink at her. But since he didn't know how to wink yet, he closed his right eyelid with his thumb; fortunately, Kim knew what he was trying to do and winked back at him.

She leaped off the bed and, even though it hurt, still giggling, Kim chased her best friend downstairs as they both went to see how her favorite plush was doing.

V.

"Can't you ask him?" the little girl pleaded in a half-whisper.

Kim knew she couldn't fudge this one. She had to be honest. "Sweetheart," she began hesitantly, "he can't see me or hear me."

"He doesn't see or hear me, either," the little girl replied in a quiet voice.

Kim had to admit that did seem to be the case. When she had been looking into Ron's eyes a few minutes earlier, his little girl had crawled next to her and waved sadly in her father's face and asked, "Daddy? Daddy?"

Ron had not responded at all; he seemed catatonic. The fact that his daughter did not appear overly surprised by his non-reaction severely depressed Kim. How long had Ron shut himself off from his daughter? Days, weeks, months?

She shook the dismal mood that was descending upon her- _That stops right now!_

"Ok, honey," she said with the broadest smile she could manage, "I think I know how we can get your daddy to see and hear you again."

Kneeling a few feet above and to the right of Ron's head, Kim gently motioned for the little girl, who was on her hands and knees, to crawl toward her. With a puzzled look, Ron's daughter inched toward Kim. Just before she reached her, Kim held up her hand to stop her. "Look at your father and wave" she directed.

The little girl gave Kim a disappointed look. Kim fought against the shock of nostalgia the look sparked within her, and continued to direct. "Okay, now crawl back down toward his feet."

The puzzled look deepened; it was obvious the girl had her doubts about Kim's plan. Still, she began to spin around so she could crawl back the way she came.

Suddenly, Kim caught the little girl's foot in mid-swing. "No, no, sweetie," she whispered urgently, "Crawl backwards. You almost clocked your daddy in the head."

A look that was a mixture of embarrassment and apology came over the little girl's features; it made Kim's voice catch in her throat. How many missions had she seen Ron give her the exact same look? But Kim managed to focus and gently guided the little girl's leg back to the floor. "It's okay, honey. No big."

For some reason, the last phrase struck Ron's daughter as funny. She flashed a big grin at Kim, a grin she almost automatically covered with her left hand. Had Ron used that phrase with her sometime in the past? Or maybe it _was_ just a funny-sounding thing to say. Regardless, she followed Kim's excessively silly directions with a smile on her face.

"All the way back down to his feet, now crawl, slooooowly back to me. Good. Now smile and wave to him. Right. Now crawl back only-halfway, now, come back! Quickly, quickly! Good, girl! Now smile, wave, okay sloowly go back. Now, quickly back to me, back to me!" Part of Kim felt like she was back coaching her brothers' soccer team and was worried that her natural Kimness might be raising its overly-competitive head; however, the smile on the little girl's face never waned. Kim knew the little girl must have known that what Kim was asking her to do was ridiculous, but she was enjoying it nevertheless. That was something that could not have been said for any member of the soccer team.

Kim was just wondering how much silly foolishness Ron's daughter had actually enjoyed in her life when Ron spoke.

"H-hey ... what're you doing?" his voice was weak, sad, but honestly puzzled, too.

Instead of answering her father's question, the little girl kept playing Kim's game. Crawling towards and away from her father's face. There was an important difference however. She was no longer following Kim's directions; Kim had stopped giving them when Ron startled her with his question. And, instead of looking at Kim, the little girl's eyes and smile were directed at Ron.

The look of despairing puzzlement on her father's face soon became one of just puzzlement. He blinked away a few tears that were pooling at the edges of his lower lids and started watching her actions with something akin to bemusement. After a few moments, he reached out for her, but she scurried just out of his reach with a giggle.

The next time she came within reach, he pounced on her, and she exploded in shrieking giggles. Despite her merriment, Ron was still in the grips of immense sadness. Although he was giggling too, he held her tightly, and his laughter was occasionally broken by desperate kisses in her straight, black hair.

Kim only caught a parting glance at this emotional reunion. She had already been on her way out of the room when Ron attempted his first (and failed) attempt to grab his little girl. As the gamut of powerful emotions pursued her in echoes down the hall, Kim walked briskly to the larger room, wiping a few tears that had successfully made their way past her defenses.

_I did what I had to do. They deserve their privacy._

They were not her family. This was not about her.

VI.

Emotionally exhausted, Kim watched as Ron, carrying his sleeping child in his arms, emerged from the hallway and entered his daughter's tiny room. After a few moments, he exited the pitch black cell and carefully slid its door closed. He then walked into the larger room, approached a shelf against a wall, and took down a small candle. He placed the candle in the center of the room, lit it against the gathering shadows of early evening and sat in a meditative position. His troubled features were highlighted in the flickering light and the resulting shadows the light cast only made him look more troubled. Within a few moments, he opened his eyes, sighed, and uncrossed his legs.

He sat that way for the better part of twenty minutes. Finally, Kim inched her way from out of the corner where she had ensconced herself for the last hour and crawled over to where Ron sat.

She didn't know what she could do, but she needed to do something.

VII.

An hour earlier, Kim had been trapped with no way to escape. The door was closed, the paper thin yet impenetrable shades were drawn upon the large windows, and even the hole Ron had created earlier was too small to fit through. So she did the best she could. She huddled in the farthest corner of the large room, clamped her hands against her ears and, when the moment demanded it, screamed.

She knew it was coming. There was no way that the sweetness between father and daughter that she had left in Ron's room could last forever. Especially not when there was tragic news that needed to be told.

After the laughter had died down, there had been a period of ten minutes when all she could make out (although she was trying her best not to hear anything) was mumblings between the father and daughter that were still light-hearted in nature. And then there was a sudden quiet. A quiet that only lasted a few minutes, but felt like an eternity to Kim, who was straining not to hear what most likely would come next.

And it did. The low wail of a child that built and built and built upon itself until it seemed to swallow up the entire universe. That was when Kim covered her ears, choked back a series of burning sobs and cried out once or twice when she had enough breath to do so. The heartbreaking pain was too much.

_God, please, please!_

Although He could not abate the child's sorrow for the loss of her mother, the intense misery did not last long. Perhaps He mercifully let the sorrow exhaust the child quickly so as to deliver her to sleep within the quickest possible time. Kim did not know, but she hoped that was the case.

To not be able to help her best friend and his little girl through something so tragic, yet have to witness their grief ...

_Oh, God! Oh God. Oh God ..._

VIII.

She inched herself over to Ron. He looked miserable. True, not as miserable as he had looked at various points earlier in the day, but more miserable than he deserved to be.

Part of her wanted to scoff at such a ridiculous word- _"Deserve" what did that even mean?_ -but a bigger part of her just wanted to ease the pain.

With her right hand, she tested the boundary between them. The keening didn't begin until she was maybe five inches from him, and then it was almost bearable. It sounded like it was coming from a cave at the end of a very long tunnel. Yet, she didn't want to tempt it, so she kept ten inches from him.

Even if he could not see or hear her, maybe she could still do something for him. If she was a spirit, a ghost, an angel or whatever, perhaps he could feel, however briefly, the love and comfort in her words even if he couldn't hear them.

"Ron, I love-" she broke down.

Without question, Kim had cried more tears that day than she had in the rest of her life combined, maybe even including when she was a baby. So she had assumed she didn't have any left to cry.

_Way wrong, Possible. Way wrong._

Ron deserved positive thoughts and her best feelings. She couldn't let this get bogged down in her own sadness or regret.

Accordingly, it was much easier to _think_ her love for him. Much easier. In addition to the obvious sentiments (that she loved him and was still his very best friend) Kim sent thoughts about his lovely daughter Ron's way. How beautiful, sweet and adorable she was. How Kim had always known he would be a wonderful father. Even how handsome and distinguished he looked in his gi. She avoided any direct mention of Yori and Yamanouchi however. Not only did she not want to transmit her negative feelings about these subjects, she could not force herself to express that they had done or were doing him (with the exception of his little girl) any good.

When she had run out of positive things to say about the present, she moved to the past. Since their past as a couple brought too many turbulent feelings to the surface, Kim focused instead on their carefree pre-teen years. She had just begun explaining how his little game the day of Pandaroo's surgery had inspired her to get him to open up to his daughter when Ron unceremoniously stood up, blew out the candle, and left the room.

She should have expected it. The entire time she was trying to transmit her positive thoughts to him, his face had betrayed no reaction or change. It had been as if she was not there.

And, in a sense, that was true.

She heard Ron's door slide close.

Kim sat alone in the darkness wondering when and if the dawn would ever come.

* * *

To be continued ...


	3. Three

I.

Kim sat motionless in the darkness for what seemed a very long time. Since there were no clocks, or at least none that she had noticed, she had no way of telling how much time had passed since Ron had gone to bed. Nor could she gauge how much of the night she had left to endure. She sat cross-legged listening to her own breathing and trying her best not to think.

The night's darkness did not seem to change. It just went on and on.

The notion of getting up and walking about the sections of Ron's "home" that were open to her had occurred to Kim once or twice. True, there was no apparent motive for doing it. There was nothing to explore; the "living" room and that claustrophobic hallway hardly made for an enticing journey. The only rooms she wanted to visit were completely out of her reach. But pacing the hard floor over and over again would be something to do. Something to perhaps keep her from thinking. Yet, she did not move.

It wasn't that Kim was tired; rather, she was too weary to get up. Emotionally, she had never been through so much as she had in the past day. Yet, she wasn't tired and certainly not sleepy. Just worn-out. Just depressed.

She tried to focus on the darkness, to catch some indication, however slight, that it was lessening or, at the very least, changing. She reflected that she had never been afraid of the dark. That had been Ron. She recalled the first time he had slept over at her house, a few weeks after the Pandaroo/Cujo incident. He had been quite alarmed when he discovered that she didn't have a night light. She had discovered that her friend was truly scared when the post-twilight darkness crept through her bedroom's windows and snaked its way across her floor to where the two friends sat cross-legged on her bed, their bare knees touching, as Kim attempted to teach Ron the rules for old maid and ...

_No. Stop it, Possible. Stop it now._

Kim shook her head and tried to stay focused on the blackness surrounding her. She was so sick of tears, and thinking about anything, anything at all from the past, would only lead her back to grief. Not only was she tired of crying, she was also worried that she might wake up Ron's daughter.

_This is going to be so hard, so very hard._

As she went back to studying the darkness, she noticed that there was something _off_ about it. It was too complete. Too perfectly black. Whenever she had stared into the darkness for any period of time before, she would see tiny blue and red and yellow dots. They were like tiny pinpricks in the blackness that would move wherever her eyes did. She had named them "sleepybugs" sometime in early girlhood, before she knew Ron even, because they always seemed to arrive right before she fell asleep. She later realized that her eyes were only tired and playing tricks on her; the lights weren't really there. She could easily ignore them if she wanted to, but they would always seem to be there, even if they really weren't.

Until now. This night was completely black, and the tiny lights were most definitely not there.

_Maybe it's because I'm dead. No sleepybugs because the dead don't sleep._

II.

Suddenly, she was staring at a field of complete white. No, not complete white. She could make out small gray fissures in the plain that broke it into both large and small segments of various shapes. Then her eyes caught something that looked very much like a grayish cloud ... or ... a stain. A water stain.

_Waitaminute ..._

Suddenly, the beaming face of Ron's daughter entered Kim's line of vision from the left. As unexpected as the little girl's appearance was, Kim did not jump or yell out. Something in the smile or in her eyes or in a combo of the two grounded Kim, put her at ease.

"My name is Mariko," the little girl whispered; her smile expressed excited relief.

"That is a beautiful name," Kim smiled back. "I like it. I like it very much."

 _Oh, Ron._ Kim smiled, suppressing her first impulse to laugh. _You named your daughter after your first love._

Kim remembered Ron's eight-year-old confession to her of his first real crush on anyone. It had been one of her first realizations of how truly strange Ron was ... and how large his heart could be. He had fallen in love with someone he saw on TV. Importantly, it had been with the character herself and not the actress playing her. Perhaps, this was because Ron didn't know there was a difference at the time. Perhaps and perhaps not.

During summer vacation between second and third grade, Barbara Jo, against her better judgment, had let her husband, Kim's mom, and her boss convince her to take a week off from work to recover from gall bladder surgery. During that week, she watched old tapes on the Stoppables' beta tape player. Much like cable television, Ron's dad thought VHS was only a passing fad. This technology, of course, limited her viewing choices. She had finally settled on the late 1970's television mini-series _Shogun_. And Ron had fallen instantly in love the moment he saw Richard Chamberlain's love interest in the drama, Lady Mariko.

As Kim blinked up at Mariko, she quickly got her bearings. She was lying on her back in the middle of Ron's "living" room, and the white field was only the dwelling's ceiling. She sat up and looked around.

_What happened? Was I sleeping?_

Kim then looked over herself. She was still in what she had been wearing the day before, a pair of light blue shrink-fit Club Banana pants and, also from CB, her yellow peasant shirt. She hadn't given much thought to her wardrobe until now ... or how strange it was that she would be wearing this particular outfit. She was certain she had been wearing capris and her heart tee when she had been in the park.

_Why wouldn't I be wearing the same clothes I died in?_

Kim's train of thought was broken by Mariko gently tugging on her shoulder.

"What is it, sweetie?" she asked, trying her best not to betray any of the consternation or confusion she felt.

"What's _your_ name?" the little girl asked.

The questioning look in her eyes, _Ron's eyes_ , was so genuine, so pure that it took every ounce of strength Kim had (and broke her heart) to tell the little girl her second lie.

Wearing a smile that was perhaps a little too broad, a little too cheerleader-esque, Kim swallowed her self-hatred and said, "My name ... is Rufina."

III.

A wave of confusion clouded the little girl's eyes and dulled her smile.

_Oh no. Can she tell I'm lying?_

Suddenly, Mariko's face lit up again. "My daddy has a friend named _Rufus_!" she said excitedly. "He lives in America with my Bubbe!"

"Really?" Kim said with a smile that reflected both relief and pleasure. It was extremely reassuring to hear that Rufus was still alive. And although she hadn't been especially close with Barbara Jo, realizing that Ron's mother was this little girl's "Bubbe" couldn't help but make Kim smile.

"Uh-huh, Bubbe brought him for a visit last year," Mariko continued. "Rufus loves to dance."

Although she could guess at the reason, Kim wanted to know why Rufus couldn't be a part of Mariko's life all the time. It was obvious, to her at least, that the little girl needed someone she could just be silly with, someone to make her laugh. Especially at a time like this.

"But they could only stay for a few days." As Mariko said these last words, her eyes clouded up again, and her smile got smaller. She turned her head slightly away from Kim.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Kim asked; there was no way to mistake the sudden shift in the girl's mood.

The sunny look Mariko flashed her was so transparent that Kim almost laughed out loud. She had been seeing that same look on Ron's face for years. It was a patented "Sha" look. Kim could even feel her eyebrow reflexively arching in reaction to the forced cheer in the little girl's eyes.

"Mariko," Kim whispered gently, "what's the matter?" She placed her hand on the little girl's shoulder, "You can tell me."

Mariko, her head bent to the floor, replied in a hushed tone that echoed Kim's, "Are you only here for a few days too? Are you going to go home … today?"

"I hope not, sweetie." Kim replied honestly. Even though she didn't know where "home" might be and "life" in this place had been pretty rough so far, she so didn't want to leave this little girl's side.

"Don't you know?" Mariko asked. The eyes that were now aimed directly at Kim's wavered between hurt and confusion.

"It-it's complicated," Kim tried to explain, "I really don't know how long I am going to be here." She knew this was something she couldn't lie to the child about. The two lies she had already told were spoken to keep from breaking the little girl's heart; she wasn't about to tell one that she knew surely would. "But," Kim said trying to match the intensity of the stare she was receiving, "if I can do anything about it, I'll stay with you as long as you want me to."

Mariko was still confused, but Kim's semi-promise had given her a reason to hope, at least enough to make her smile.

Kim watched the girl's small freckles bunch underneath each of her shimmering sienna eyes.

_Oh God, Ron. She is **so** beautiful._

Suddenly, Ron slid open the main entrance of the dwelling and walked in from what appeared to be an especially sunny day. The light from the left open door flooded the room. Ron was still dressed in his black gi and looked a little hunched over. Although his expression didn't reflect the weather's disposition, he did not look devastated. He was still morose, but not as bad as yesterday.

_If it was yesterday._

Kim reflected that she really didn't know how much time had elapsed in that jump from the middle of the night until just a few moments ago.

"Daddy, daddy! Rufina says she's going to stay!" Mariko cried excitedly.

"Who?" Ron asked, the beginnings of a perplexed smile on his face.

"Your friend, Daddy," Mariko said pointing toward Kim, "Rufina."

_Uh-oh._

"Rufina?" Ron asked as he walked toward his daughter.

"Sweetie," Kim said urgently to Mariko, "remember he can't see me or hear me."

"Oh," Mariko said, remembering, "that's right."

"What's right?" Ron asked as he got down on his knees in front of his daughter.

Kim stood up and stepped a few feet away from the spot where Ron was kneeling. Ron hadn't been close enough for the keening to begin, but Kim wanted to take every precaution. She so didn't want Mariko seeing her clutching her ears and wincing in pain.

_There is so much about this that tanks._

"Rufina just reminded me that you can't see her or hear her." Mariko explained to her father.

"Really?" Ron asked, a wistful expression on his face. "And her name is … Rufina?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko said in a disconcerted voice as she noticed Kim was no longer sitting where she had last seen her. She looked around quickly, and smiled when she found her.

Kim waved.

"And she is over ... there?" Ron asked pointing to the space where his daughter has just directed a friendly wave. "Can I say 'hello' to her? I mean, she can hear _me_ , right?"

Mariko looked to Kim who nodded that yes, she could hear him.

"Yes, she can hear you, Daddy."

Looking in the general area of where Kim's waist was, Ron said, "Hi, Rufina!"

"No, Daddy," Mariko corrected her father, "not there. You just said 'hello' to her belly button!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ron said as he started to get to his feet.

"Tell Ron, he's okay," Kim said as she got down on her knees. "He can say it again."

"It's okay, Daddy," Mariko said tugging on her father's sleeve to prevent him from standing. "You can say it again."

"Did she shrink?" Ron asked.

"No, she's just on her knees now."

Ron stared at his daughter. The bemused grin that had been threatening his features for the past few minutes finally broke into a genuine smile. He kissed his daughter on top of her head, and smiled in Kim's direction.

"Hello, Rufina!" he called. His eyes were level with Kim's but still looking a little to her right. Not that that mattered … not really.

"Hello, Ron," Kim whispered back with a smile.

_I am not going to cry. I am not going to cry._

The light in the room suddenly dulled into shadow and a sharp voice reverberated within its narrow confines.

"Stoppable-san."

Both Ron and Mariko instantly turned from Kim. Ron was on his feet immediately, and both he and his daughter bowed as Sensei entered swiftly into the dwelling.

Although his features wore a mask of inscrutability, Sensei couldn't hide, at least from Kim, the sense of cold disfavor that emanated from every inch of his person.

He gave the room a cursory look, but directed his withering glance at the young man and his little girl. It was a calculated, measured look, and he held it upon them for what seemed an eternity.

Finally, he broke the oppressive silence. "I trust the mourning period has been both sufficient and honorably observed."

Still bowed, Ron let a sigh escape his lips. Yet he acknowledged his master's judgment. "Yes, Sensei. Three sunsets and sunrises have been more than sufficient. Thank you."

The surprise at discovering that she had somehow been "gone" for two days was not enough to offset the rage that Kim felt churning within her. Kim could read Ron's sigh; he did NOT agree with Sensei's pronouncement. And what's more, she could tell that Sensei knew it, too. What kind of man regulated another person's grief just to boost his own ego? It was bad enough he was doing it to Ron, but to Mariko, too?

Kim was so incredibly angry that her clenched fists shook.

"You are so the jerk!" she spat.

_If only he could hear me!_

"Why is Sensei 'so the jerk'?" Mariko asked in a forced whisper, looking back at Kim with a concerned look on her face.

_Oh no._

Kim felt a chill wash over her and felt like she was going to collapse.

The look of rage on Sensei's most-definitely-no-longer-inscrutable features was only matched in intensity by the shocked horror on Ron's face as he looked back at his only daughter.

"Stoppable-san!" Sensei managed after a turgid ten seconds or so. "A word … with you … _in private_."

Ron rose and turned to his daughter and, in a wavering voice, said, "Mariko, please go to your cell. Sensei and I need to speak." When she didn't move at first, he spoke in a louder voice, "Now, Mariko."

By this time, the little girl was aware that she had just done something terribly, terribly wrong. When she turned away from Sensei and her father, her face was extremely pale and her chin was quivering. She was only able to control her tears for three steps, and then they pooled forth.

Reflexively, Kim dropped to one knee and held out her arms to the little girl. "Oh, Mariko, I am so-"

But the girl skirted her reach and ran straight into her room, sliding the door shut behind her.

IV.

Kim raised her hand to the frame of Mariko's door to knock and then let it drop helplessly to her side.

_No, I've done enough._

She turned back to the main room where Ron was reaping his share of what she had done. Each step she took away from Mariko's cell and toward the confrontation in the living room fell like lead on the hard floor.

Ron and Sensei were standing in the beam of bright, almost blinding, sunshine that shone through the still open entrance way. With his back to her, Ron seemed swallowed up in Sensei's imposing shadow. And the master's features were cast in the darkness of this same shadow. Sensei's words were sharp, but they were being spoken in a low tone.

Kim caught "insubordination," "disgrace" and "dishonor." As far she could tell, Ron had not said anything in return. It had always torn her up inside to see him get pushed around by bullies. Sure, he wasn't getting smacked around by the thugs in D hall at Middleton High, but, essentially, this time was no different.

No, it was different in one respect. Kim wasn't there to rescue him; in fact, it was all her fault.

With his head still bent in a reverent position, Ron said something to his master.

Kim couldn't catch what had been said; he had been speaking too low. However, Sensei reacted as if he had been struck in the face.

"Your child insults me," Sensei stuttered in mounting rage, "and you have the temerity to make a request?!"

Kim was now just behind Ron and could make out his master's face through the shadows. He was ferociously displeased.

In a calm steady voice, Ron stated, "Master, have I ever asked anything of you before?"

Sensei attempted to maintain a sage countenance and muttered, "Like the buzzing of the mosquito in the ear, an impudent request only receives a stinging rebuke."

Unfazed, Ron repeated in the same even tone, "Master, have I ever asked anything of you before?"

"The issue is not you, Stoppable-san," Sensei said, again beginning to lose his sage-like demeanor, "it is that spoiled, dishonorable ..."

Before Sensei could finish his sentence, Ron said in a cold, frightening voice, "She is _my_ daughter, master. Any correction will be done _by me_."

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, things had shifted significantly. Although Ron still had the posture of the reverent pupil and Sensei still held the attitude of the disapproving master, the power dynamic between the two had reversed. Ron had become an unmovable force, and Sensei was now merely a small, pear-shaped man looking for the quickest, if not the most honorable, way to make an exit.

"You may have your two weeks," Sensei said. He waited nervously a moment for Ron to reply. He then exchanged bows with his pupil and quickly edged back to the door. Just as he stepped back into the openness of the day, Sensei seemed to regain some of his spark, "Stoppable-san, understand ..." he began with an admonishing finger raised.

"Understood." Ron said in the same frigid voice.

Sensei was gone.

_Way to go, Ron!_

Kim was so proud of her best friend for standing up for himself and his daughter. Although she had no idea what had just transpired between the two of them, she was ecstatic by the sudden turn of events. She wanted more than anything to give Ron a high-five, or a hug, or, at the very least, a Mad Dog Cheer.

The smile on her face froze, however, once Ron turned around. She didn't recognize him.

His features were tight and shrunken, his eyes black, and the color of his skin was impossibly pale, impossibly smooth. It was almost as if he was blank. The face scared her.

As he walked steadily toward the little girl's cell, Kim edged back across the room, making sure to keep herself between Ron and Mariko's door.

_Oh my God, Ron, what have they done to you?_

V.

Kim didn't know what to do. Should she stand aside, shout out a warning to the little girl, or face the fury of the keening and try to prevent Ron from entering Mariko's room.

About five feet from the door, Ron stopped. He took a deep breath and held it so it ballooned out his cheeks and then shook his head with careless abandon. When Ron had finished, the "blank" mask was gone, and he looked normal again. He took another couple of breaths, seemingly to orient himself, and called out in a calm, kind voice, "Honey, can I come in?"

"Yes, Daddy," came the muffled reply from inside the cell.

Kim was still unsettled by what she had just seen, but she couldn't deny the sincere concern that now radiated from Ron. She stepped aside, giving him a clear path to Mariko's door.

He opened the door and quietly walked in.

Kim shot a quick glance into the tiny room. It was dark and murky; the blinds were still drawn. She could just make out Ron's outline standing over a small "bundle" huddled on the floor.

"Mariko, Daddy needs to talk to you about something," he spoke gently to her small form.

Kim slid down to her rear and sat just outside the cell door listening to the muted voices of father and daughter.

"Daddy, I'm so, so—"

"Shh."

"Are you in trouble with Sensei?"

"No. Everything's fine, but you need to listen to me, Mariko. Can you do that for Daddy?"

Kim assumed that the little girl nodded because Ron continued.

"We must always show Sensei respect, and we must always show him honor. Understand?"

"Y-yes."

Kim could only curse herself in silence. This was so totally unfair. Everything that had happened was _her_ fault. As gentle as Ron was being with the girl, Mariko still didn't deserve to be reprimanded for something that was not her fault.

"Daddy owes Sensei his life. Our family … you and I … owe our lives to him and to the glorious Yamanouchi School. Do you understand that, Mariko?"

"Yes."

Here, Kim thought she was going to get sick. Even beyond what Yori had done to her, Kim couldn't swallow the notion that this "life" that Ron and his daughter were enduring at this prison-like "school" justified displaying anything but contempt for the cruel old man who had just left their doorstep.

"Now," and here Ron paused, "that doesn't mean that we always must agree with Sensei or his judgments. Even Daddy doesn't always like what Sensei says. But we must always show him respect. There is no reason to hurt someone's feelings, is there?"

"No, Daddy," Mariko agreed. She then asked with awe and concern, "D-did I hurt Sensei's feelings?"

"Maybe, a little. But Daddy talked with Sensei about it."

Kim crawled over to the doorway and peered at the two figures inside. Ron and Mariko were facing each other on their knees. The little girl's head was bowed to the floor, but Ron placed his hand under her chin and, ever so gingerly, raised it up.

As tender as Kim found this scene and as impressed as she was with Ron's demeanor and speech, it still made her a little sad. His voice and words had become those of a mature adult. Not that that was a bad thing, but Ron seemed a little too no-nonsense. The past five years must have been especially difficult for Ron, Kim reflected. They had squeezed all the "Ronness" out of him.

Then as she watched, Ron held out his right fist. A few seconds later, Mariko did the same.

"No big?" Mariko asked.

"No big," Ron nodded. And their fists gently knocked together.

And then Ron embraced his daughter as his best friend sat in the doorway and tried her best not to cry.

VI.

"I have a surprise for you," Ron half-whispered to Mariko as they finished their hug.

"Yay!"

"Wait! Don't you want to know what it is first?" Ron asked amused.

"Okay."

"Well, how would you like to see Bubbe and Rufus?"

"They're coming for a visit? Yay!" Mariko yelled as she hopped to her feet and began to dance.

"Even better."

"Huh?" Mariko stopped in the middle of what, to Kim, looked like a variation of one of Ron's bon-diggity dance moves.

"How would you like to go visit them instead?"

"You mean," Mariko asked quietly, "a trip? A real trip!"

Ron nodded, and Mariko threw herself at her father's neck. Although her arms were hugging his head, her legs picked up their impromptu dance from where they had left off.

Kim was still trying to get her mind and her heart around what had just transpired. In many ways, this morning had been almost as trying as her first had been. As the realization that Ron intended on taking Mariko on a journey to Middleton made itself manifest, she found herself overwhelmed with a flood of emotions.

However, one notion echoed clearly through her being.

_Yes, Ron! Take Mariko to Middleton. Get away from this terrible place! Go and never come back!_

Kim suddenly realized that Mariko was smiling in her direction.

And then the child spoke. "Daddy, can Rufina come with us, too?"

"Of course, honey," her father replied, "of course she can."

* * *

_To be continued ..._


	4. Four

I.

The night before the trip to Middleton, Kim paced the hard floors of the living area and the hallway between Ron and Mariko's sleeping cells. Over and over again.

Instead of trying not to think-which had been the previous evening's goal, she was busy trying to work out all the complications that the trip surely had in store for her ... if she actually went.

The emotional implications of seeing her hometown five years after her own death were so daunting that her mind refused to even consider them. There could be no preparation; she would just have to roll with the punches as the came. Besides, the sheer number of physical complications was more than enough to keep her occupied. She would have to stick to Mariko like glue; walking even a handful of steps behind Ron and his daughter could result in being cut off from them by a closing barrier. The sliding entrance to the dwelling, the gate to Yamanouchi (she couldn't imagine such a place _not_ having a gate), multiple doors in the airports they were sure to go through-one misstep and any one of them could leave her trapped and alone.

And, of course, there was still the uncertainty about whether she could even leave the dwelling at all. How was she to know that at the moment she tried to cross the threshold that awful keening wouldn't begin again, and she'd find herself on her rear, watching Ron and Mariko walk out of sight? Perhaps forever.

_Amp down, Possible!_

One thing she could not amp down was her fear of "blacking out" again. Once the drama that afternoon had settled down, the gravity of her inexplicable two day absence began to weigh upon her. How was she to know if it would happen again or for how long? As she walked leadenly through the pitch blackness with only the vaguely perceived whiteness of the walls to guide her, Kim gloomily mused that another "black out" could happen at any instant. For all she knew, it had already happened. Maybe the last second. And _this_ second was on a night _after_ the trip. Anything was possible, and none of it was under her control.

Kim had never felt so helpless.

And then there was the big fear. The fear that Mariko might discover who she really was. What would happen if the little girl realized that Kim had lied to her?

As she wheeled once again down the stilted hallway toward Ron's door, she heard Mariko's cell door slide open.

"Rufina!"

The girl's voice sent a wave of relief over Kim so palpable that she felt a warm flutter in the pit of her stomach. "Yes, sweetheart," she smiled as she turned toward Mariko. The little girl was in a white kimono and standing in a pool of moonlight that emptied out from her open door.

"Are you too excited to sleep, too?" the girl asked. Giddiness was evident both in her voice and the trembling of her shadow.

"Yes," she answered as truthfully as possible. Although Kim did not know if she could _ever_ sleep, the trip definitely had her excited.

Mariko ran to Kim and took her by the hand.

"What is it, Mariko?" Kim asked, kneeling down to the girl's level. Again, the pulsing warmth in the girl's tiny grasp was very soothing.

"Could you help me fall asleep? Maybe tell me a story?"

"Oh, sure." As the little girl led her into the cell, Kim tried to rack her memory for a story suitable for someone of Mariko's age. She hadn't read a bedtime story since she was babysitting-before she started doing the missions full time. And she had never told a story on-the-fly.

"Wow," Kim breathed as she rounded the corner in the girl's room. The window shade was open, and the room was overflowing with light from the largest full moon Kim could ever remember seeing. "No wonder you can't fall asleep."

"Huh?"

"Th-the moon," Kim said, still gazing out the window. The details on the craters were so clear and vivid. Her eyes caught a small cluster of stars rounding out the moon's cradle to the right. They shone so brilliantly that they seemed to be dancing. As her eyes tried to take in all the vibrant detail, Kim recalled Ron mentioning at some point Senior year that Yamanouchi was high up in the mountains.

_The elevation, the clear air … maybe that's why …_

"Oh, yeah." Mariko glanced at the moon, shrugged, and then curled up on her sleeping mat. She looked up at Kim expectantly.

"A story," Kim said hesitantly as she sat down, "okay." She could only recall the plots of a couple of Dr. Seuss books that Ron had been particularly fond of. Of course, with those books, the plots alone were not much help. Then the perfect story presented itself.

"I remember the first time that I went on a long trip," Kim began confidently. "I was going to visit my Nana, and I think I was ... maybe three."

"What's a Nana?" Mariko interrupted.

"Oh, she's my grandmother-that's what I call my grandmother," Kim smiled. "Like your Bubbe."

"Oh," Mariko nodded happily.

Kim paused.

_Is Nana still alive?_

It had been at least five years, and there was no telling how many things had happened in that time.

_What's changed? What's ended?_

Kim shook that unpleasant thought from her mind and pressed on. "I remember it was a very long car trip. Nana lived far, far away. We had to leave very early-even before the sun came up."

"What's …a car?" Mariko asked, a perplexed wrinkle between her eyes.

_Oh boy._

"Well, it's … a vehicle that takes you places," Kim managed with difficulty. "Okay," she admitted, "that sounded pretty stupid."

_Why can't I do this?_

"Well, it's like a … a horseless carriage?" Kim offered with a wince.

"Oh," Mariko nodded. Then she asked, "What's a horse?"

_You've got be to kidding me. How can you not know what a horse is?_

Then Kim remembered how amped Mariko had been earlier about going on "a real trip." It was quite likely that Mariko had _never_ left the grounds of the school. If there were no horses on this secluded mountain, how often would the topic come up?

"Well …" Kim said massaging her temples (more out of frustration than any pain per se), "what was your original question, sweetie?"

"What's a car?" Mariko said with a half-yawn.

"It's difficult to explain," Kim admitted sheepishly. Then she brightened, "But I'm sure you'll see them in Middleton."

"Really?" Mariko smiled.

"Uh-huh," Kim asserted, "and ride in them, too."

"Wow," Mariko breathed in a tone that reminded Kim of her reaction to that incredible moon just a few minutes earlier.

Kim nodded. "Anyway, I remember having trouble falling asleep before my trip, too. Even Pandaroo didn't help that night."

"Who's Panda...roo?"

"Oh! He's my favorite Cuddle Buddie!" Kim enthused. "He's part kangaroo and part panda. I just couldn't go anywhere without him when I was your age. And I still have difficulty going to sleep without him even now."

Kim had no problem admitting these normally embarrassing details to Mariko. And, Mariko, who didn't understand half of what Kim was referring to, just took it all in with a drowsy smile. The happiness in Kim's voice was so pleasant to listen to that she just let the words flow over her.

But she still had to ask.

"Is Panda … Pandaroo a boy or a girl?"

"Oh," Kim stopped short. She had never thought about that; Pandaroo had always just been "Pandaroo." "I guess Pandaroo's a boy, sweetie," she said finally. And then, to make it clear that he wasn't a person, she added, "He's a stuffed animal."

The little girl's eyes shot open in alarm. "S-someone killed him … and st-stuffed him!?"

"No!" Kim said holding up her hands. "No, no, no, sweetie! He's not that kind of stuffed animal. He's not real."

That got her a relieved look that quickly became a confused one.

"I mean," Kim corrected herself, "he's real ... just not _real_ , real."

_Boy, **that** sure cleared things up! Okay. Think Possible. You can do this._

Kim thought of explaining that Pandaroo was a toy. However, the complete absence of playthings from the girl's room suggested that this stratagem might lead to the obvious question of what a "toy" was.

"Your daddy had a lot of stuffies like Pandaroo when he was little," she explained. "I'm sure your Bubbe still has them at her house. You'll understand when you see them."

"Really?" Mariko asked in amazement. "Lots and lots?"

"Uh-huh," Kim nodded. "You'll see. They're lots of fun."

There was no way Barbara Jo would have thrown away Ron's collection of stuffed animals, Kim mused. Apart from herself and the imaginary Rufus, they had been his first friends. In fact, they were the reason behind his initial desire to cook.

Mariko yawned.

"Are you getting sleepy, sweetie," Kim asked.

With her eyes shut, Mariko nodded and yawned once more. Then she opened her eyes and asked, "Will you stay in my room after I go to sleep."

"Would you like that?"

Mariko nodded.

"Of course."

The contented smile on the little girl's lips spread as she swiftly fell asleep. Kim couldn't get over the child's face. She was absolutely beautiful. Especially in that room at that moment with the ineffable glow of the moon highlighting her small features. Kim was convinced that Mariko was the most precious thing she had ever seen.

Kim pulled her gaze from Ron's daughter and focused back on the moon. It had glided into the night to the point that it was almost above her line of sight in the window. Yet, what she could see was still awe-inspiring. It was almost like looking through her father's telescope as a pre-schooler. Except here, Kim could almost believe it really was close enough to touch. She felt that if she extended her arm right, she might feel the craters scrape against her fingertips.

Suddenly, Kim was startled from this reverie by a disturbing noise. Over the course of a few seconds, it went from a low rumbling, gained momentum to become a guttural "churn," and finally blossomed into a cacophonous roar. As jarring as the sound was ... it was _very familiar_ , too.

As she slowly turned toward the sound's source-Mariko's mat, Kim saw that the child was on her back with her mouth gracelessly wide open. And although the din seemed much deeper and louder than anything that could be coming from such a small body, there was no doubt that the "rumblings" that Kim could now feel in her bones were Mariko's snores.

Kim barely managed to suppress a giggle.

_Oh Ron, she is so your daughter!_

Kim propped herself on her elbow, leaned over Mariko's sleeping form, and gave her a peck on the forehead.

Almost immediately, Kim inexplicably felt quite empty and sad. She lay on her back and tried to puzzle out what was wrong. Her eyes followed the tracks of the various cracks in the cell's ceiling. Like her father's, Mariko's snores, though raucous, were quite rhythmic, and listening to them soothed her. However, Kim still couldn't shake the vague dread that was hovering at the edges of her consciousness

Then she realized what it was. The small kiss she had just given Mariko was her first kiss since …

_Since I died._

Her last kiss had also been a brief peck. Not even that.

When she had said goodbye to Ron that Saturday morning as she headed off to the park, she had only brushed her lips against his cheek. He had been standing in his mother's doorway still in his night attire, a naco-stained t-shirt and Fearless Ferret boxers. Although he was going over to Mr. North's to do some yard work, he had overslept. That was so like him. He said he would catch her later, and she had replied that she'd like to do something before the dance that evening but she had no idea what. Maybe it was because she had been so focused on the dance, but she had not paid close attention to their words at the time. And she couldn't recall them now. Their last words.

The kiss she had given Mariko grounded Kim … in time. From the girl's age, Kim had assumed that five years had past since that day in the park. But now she knew it was more like seven, maybe even eight. And they were real years.

She had accepted the reality of the world she had found herself in and had accepted those heart-shattering facts-Yori had killed her; Ron had married Yori-as truth. But she hadn't _known_ them, hadn't _felt_ them like she did now.

It was numbing, but it couldn't be denied. She had died; the world had gone on without her for the better part of a decade. And save for the acknowledgment of one little girl, Kim would only have been a fading memory.

II.

The screams were searing.

"Mommy!" Mariko cried. "Don't go! Please, mommy!"

Mariko was sitting bolt upright on her mat, one arm extended and clutching into the darkness of her room while the other hugged her own shoulder. Tears ran down both cheeks and her nose bubbled. She was hysterical.

Kim had been listlessly watching the remainder of the moon glide above the room's window, so she had been jolted by Mariko's cries.

She gently gathered the little girl's trembling form in her arms and began to urgently, yet quietly, whisper to her. "Mariko, Mariko, it's okay, it's just a dream, you're okay, you're okay …"

The idiocy of what she was saying didn't hit Kim until after the girl stopped crying.

_Of course, it is **not** just a dream for her. It's **not** okay._

Mariko looked up, tears still flowing. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she edged quickly away from Kim's embrace. Kim let her go. The child stared at her in startled confusion.

A second later, recognition flashed across her eyes. "Rufina!" With both arms hugging her shoulders, she began trembling again. "I-I miss my mommy … so much."

Kim tentatively put her arms around the child again; Mariko leaned heavily into the embrace.

_What do I say? What can I say?_

"I'm here," Kim whispered as she began to rock the little girl. "I'm here."

"Mariko!" Ron was standing out of breath in the doorway; the glow from a candleholder in his hand sent orange shadows dancing about the room. His eyes were harried and his hair stuck out in all directions.

"Daddy!" Mariko broke from Kim's embrace and ran to hug her father's knees.

He lifted her up in one arm and asked in a hushed, groggy voice. "A-another nightmare?"

Mariko nodded and rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her kimono.

"Do you want to sleep in daddy's room?"

Mariko nodded again.

As Ron turned to walk down the hall, Mariko's eyes fell upon Kim sitting in the center of her cell. She gave Kim a small wave that was interrupted as Ron and she disappeared around the door's edge.

III.

When Kim returned the wave, she found she was in the back seat of an SUV that was traveling through a snowstorm. Mariko was in a toddler chair at the opposite end of the vehicle's roomy back seat.

The girl enthusiastically returned Kim's wave and cried, "Rufina! Yay! She's here!"

Kim noticed Barbara Jo in the driver's seat before Mariko; Ron was in the front passenger seat, directly in front of her. She was mildly surprised that Donald Stoppable wasn't there.

"Good!" Ron said as he looked back to the general area where Kim was sitting. "I knew she'd show up eventually." He waved off to Kim's left, "Hello, Rufina!"

She smile at Mariko and attempted to give Ron a brief wave, but he had already turned back around.

"Rufina, huh?" Barbara Jo said with a pointed wry smile.

Ron shrugged absently in response to his mother's insinuation.

"Oh, Rufina," Mariko gushed, "you missed so much today! We flew in a helicopter and got to see the whole mountain and then we got to see Tokyo and then we got to see the airport and flew on a plane and I got a packet of peanuts, but they were too salty."

"Really?" Kim asked as she tried to catch up with the flowing words that were erupting from the little girl while still trying to get acclimated to her most recent jump in space and time. "Did you like flying on the plane?"

"Yes," Mariko said, but then she paused in thought for a few seconds. "But I really like riding in Bubbe's car much, much more! And I can't wait to see Rufus again!"

"And I know he can't wait to see you too." Ron and Kim said in unison. Mariko thought this was hilarious.

"Jinx." Kim said automatically.

"What?" Mariko asked with a curious smile.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie." Kim smiled.

"That's what I was going to ask," Ron said from the front seat. "What's so funny?"

"You and Rufina just said the same thing at the same time." Mariko explained with a smile.

"Oh, okay," Ron said from the front seat. There was a pregnant moment of silence and then Ron began to talk in a hushed voice to his mother.

Kim experienced a flutter of anxiety during those few seconds of silence. Almost as if she was _worried_ Ron might realize she was there.

As Mariko continued to relay all the details of her adventure, Kim found it somewhat difficult to maintain complete focus on what the little girl was saying. Every time her gaze wavered, even slightly from Mariko's, she would make out through the driving snow a familiar Middelton landmark. It seemed as if there wasn't a building, a house, or a street that wasn't attached to some deep memory from her past. And more often than not, these memories involved Ron.

"Ooh! Look at the big hat, Rufina!" Mariko cried pointing out Kim's window as they drove past Bueno Nacho.

"Yes, I see it," Kim smiled back. Then she realized that the SUV was actually pulling into the restaurant's parking lot.

_Oh no, Ron! This'll knock Mariko flat on her bottom!_

Although she had yet to see Ron and Mariko eat a meal, Kim felt pretty certain that the diet at Yamanouchi was a healthy and spartan one. A naco would certainly be a shock to the little girl's system.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Mom," Ron said with an annoyed look at his mother.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Barbara Jo said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You practically lived here! I'm sure a Little Nino meal won't do her any permanent damage. Besides, I didn't get a chance to go to the store today—there's _nothing_ to eat in the house."

"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. "But no fast food after this," he flashed a worried glance back at Mariko.

Although Kim could see that Ron still had difficulty saying 'no' to his mother, she was glad to see that even he viewed Bueno Nacho as an unwise meal choice for his little girl.

As they sat in the drive-thru line, Kim continued to listen to Mariko's adventures. She had been very worried when they got on the helicopter—at first, but she grew to really like seeing things from so high up and didn't want to get off when they landed in Tokyo. On the other hand, she had found the plane ride very boring and slept most of the time. She told Kim that she didn't start to really worry that she, that is, Rufina, wasn't going to make it until they landed in the first American airport. And then they had met Bubbe in the Middleton airport and Bubbe had brought warm jackets and snow boots for them put on. Mariko was delighted that it was snowing because her daddy had said that they might go sledding, and that was something they never got to do in the snow at Yamanouchi.

As the car inched forward in line, Kim couldn't get over how strange the Bueno Nacho _felt_. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it seemed different somehow. Smaller, maybe. In fact, she had been getting that vibe every time she spotted a familiar place on their drive.

"The usual Naco Night order?" Barbara Jo asked Ron happily.

"I guess," Ron said, "Wait! Do they still even have that?"

"I don't know," Barbara Jo admitted, "I just know what food came with it."

Ron sat quietly as his mother announced their order to the speaker. When she got to the Nino Meal, he leaned over and said, "Mom, no t-o-y with the meal."

"Hold on a moment," Barbara Jo told the speaker. "Ron, don't worry, they don't have those little devil/robots anymore."

"That's not it, Mom," Ron said seriously, "just—no t-o-y. I'll explain later."

Barbara Jo completed the order and then at the last moment added, "And could I get extra nachos instead of drinks for all those meals?" She explained to Ron as they drove to the pick-up window that she had plenty of soda at home.

"Mmmm. Smells yummy!" Mariko said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"Yes, but we're not going to eat until we get to Bubbe's house," Ron said.

"Doesn't it smell yummy, Rufina?"

"Yes, it does," Kim smiled. And it did. But it didn't make her hungry. It was hard to explain, but Kim didn't feel like she would ever be hungry again, and, even stranger, that felt "normal" to her.

It was snowing harder now, making it more difficult to identify places they were driving past. Of course, Kim knew the way from Bueno Nacho to Ron's house like the back of her hand. Middleton High would be coming up on her side of the car soon.

Ron was also looking out his window. Maybe he was going to point out their school to Mariko.

They passed the school, and Ron said nothing. He only starred impassively out the window.

There were so many memories there, but Kim could understand why Ron might not want to revisit them.

"Are you okay, Rufina?" Mariko asked.

"Yes, sweetie, fine." Kim said, trying to sound sincere.

"You look sad." Mariko insisted.

"Maybe a little," Kim admitted. She was so tired of lying to the little girl. "But I'll be okay. Oh, look! The gazebo!" She said happily pointing out the little girl's window.

Kim wasn't lamely trying to change the subject. She really was happy to see the Silver Gazebo at the edge of Middleton Park. The hundred-year-old structure had been the scene of one of her best memories. Actually, her favorite memory. And it did look beautiful lit up amid the millions of shimmering, dark flakes of snow.

"Wow!" Mariko said as she watched it go by. She tried out the new word "Gazeeebo!"

"Yeah, honey, they have one in the park." Ron's words fell like lead as they were spoken. He was still staring out the passenger window, seeing nothing. No one in the car could mistake the despair in his voice.

When he spoke the word "park," Kim realized what was wrong. How could _she_ not have realized earlier?

_That's where I died._

"Honey," Ron said in a slightly brighter tone after a few moments, "did you say that Rufina was sad?"

"Yes, daddy," Mariko nodded as she looked at Kim, "she is sad."

"What about?"

"I don't know," she answered worriedly.

Kim gave Mariko a little smile, if only so she wouldn't worry.

"Hey!" Ron said happily, "Look, Mariko! That's where daddy went to school when he was your age."

"Where?" Mariko asked, craning in her chair to see where her father was pointing.

"Right there!" Kim and Ron said in unison as the SUV turned right in front of Ron and Kim's pre-school.

"Jinx," Kim whispered with a small smile. Her voice was quiet enough that Mariko shouldn't have been able to hear her.

"There?" Mariko asked, pointing to the school.

"Uh-huh," Ron continued happily, "that's where daddy met his best friend in the whole world."

"R-rufina?" Mariko asked looking at Kim.

"No, silly," Ron replied, "Kim." Then he was quiet again. And although she couldn't see it, Kim could hear the smile in his voice when he, in a barely-heard whisper, spoke again. "Her name was Kim."

IV.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Mariko cried in alarm.

"What? What it is, Mariko?" Ron had Mariko's small bag and his duffle under his left arm and one of the Bueno Nacho sacks in his right hand.

"Rufina's trapped in the car!"

Kim had been so preoccupied with looking at the Stoppables' home through her car window that she had momentarily forgotten that she needed to take advantage of the brief period of time when the little girl's door was open to make her escape. But she couldn't help it. Like Bueno Nacho, Middleton High, the gazebo, and even their kindergarten, there was something _different_ about Ron's house. Something had changed, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

Indulgently, Ron reopened Mariko's door, and Kim slid across the seat and stepped out of the car.

"Is she out?" Ron asked pleasantly.

"Uh-huh," Mariko said as she grabbed Kim's hand and then walked over to her Bubbe who was waiting for the little girl's other hand.

As he watched his daughter walking toward his childhood front door, her left hand held by his mother and her right raised in the air as if she was holding an invisible person's hand, Ron let go a brief laugh and close the car door. As he followed them up the walk, Ron reflected that he had just laughed carelessly for the first time in a very long while. And that made him smile, but with a little sadness, too.

While Barbara Jo was fussing with the lock on the front door, Kim noticed that Ron's father's car wasn't in the drive. Maybe he was working late, but that didn't make sense. Even Donald Stoppable could pull himself away from work for a rare visit with his granddaughter.

Kim's thoughts were interrupted when the door suddenly opened and Mariko began to tug her into the house. Once they were past the threshold, the little girl could no longer contain herself, she let go of both Kim and Barbara Jo's hands and began exploring.

"Wow! Look, look at this! Wow!" Mariko was running all over the room, pointing at such mundane things as lampshades and the coffee table doilies. Her little form, looking like a little puffed-out pink marshmallow in her new winter jacket, darting excitedly around the room was one of the cutest things Kim had ever seen. But, for some reason Kim felt very self-conscious about her smile. Even though she well knew that only Mariko could see her, she felt compelled to cover her smile and not laugh while Barbara Jo was in the room.

The keening in her ears let Kim know that Ron was making his way through the doorway. She stepped aside to let him in. As he shut the door, he called out to Mariko, "Okay, punky monkey, time to eat, you can ransack the house later."

"Punky monkey?" all three females in the room said at once.

"What?" Ron asked his mother and daughter. "It just came to me just now-I don't know why." After placing the luggage on the couch, he asked, "Where's Rufus?"

"Up in your room, Ron. He was sleeping when I left," Barbara Jo said as she hung up her jacket.

Ron hurried across the room and up the stairs, two steps at a time.

Mariko looked at her grandmother and said, "Oh, I forgot to say it."

"Forgot to say what, dear?"

"Jinx." Mariko said happily.

"Oh, I see," Barbara Jo laughed, "so you're playing that game too, huh?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded.

Once again, Kim felt a wave of mild anxiety pass over her.

Ron came down the stairs with his finger to his lips. "Little guy's still sleeping," he said in a half-whisper.

"Can I see him?" Mariko half-whispered back.

Ron shook his head. "He needs his rest, honey. You can see him later after we eat."

Kim followed the others as they walked toward the kitchen. She spied the clock that hung above Barbara Jo's hutch; it was quarter after eight.

_Where's Ron's dad? This is ridiculous late!_

Then her eyes caught the framed photos standing on the hutch's top two shelves. She quickly walked toward the piece of furniture and anxiously looked over the photo collection.

_Where … where—there! Whew! Good._

She found their junior prom picture on the top shelf near the back. It wasn't far back, but it was far enough from the edge that she didn't believe Mariko could see it.

_Oh my God._

Unbidden, all the feelings and emotions tied to that photo rushed over her. Kim felt like she was going to faint and had to grab the side of the hutch to steady herself.

As she regained her equilibrium, Kim's eyes fell upon the largest photo on the second shelf, positioned at the very front of all the others.

Considering her emotional state, it was quite amazing that Kim was able to lower herself to the floor so gently and not simply collapse. Once there, she closed her eyes. This gave no relief because she found a negative image of Ron and Yori's wedding portrait floating behind her closed eyelids.

Her eyes opened as a small warm hand touched her back.

"Rufina?" Mariko asked, "Don't you want to come eat?"

"No, sweetie," Kim said in a surprisingly steady voice, "I'm not hungry. Actually, I don't believe I can eat."

"Oh … okay."

The hand withdrew and Kim was alone again.

But not quite. A few seconds later, Mariko walked back over to Kim and kissed her on the top of her head.

Kim turned and said "Thanks" to Mariko as the little girl walked back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Kim felt well enough to get to her feet and see how things were going in the kitchen. As she entered the room, she exchanged smiles and waves with Mariko. Ron was eating his naco combo, but not with the same relish that he had in the past. Mariko had eaten most of her nachos but had taken apart her naco to examine its contents, and Barbara Jo was digging through the kitchen drawers.

"What are you looking for, Mom," Ron asked, his mouth half-full of naco. The sight of Ron actually covering his mouth when he spoke made Kim feel a little sad.

"The nutcracker-where'd your father always keep it?"

"The nutcracker?" Ron asked. "What do you need the nutcracker for?"

"To open the soda, Ron," Barbara Jo said with mild exasperation. "You know I can never unscrew those bottle caps. And I haven't had soda in the house for years."

"Why don't you just ask me to open the bottle, Mom?"

"Your … father?" Mariko asked.

Ron nodded, his mouth full once more.

"Will I get to see him, too?"

He shook his head and swallowed. "No, honey. I told you, my daddy died before you were born."

"Oh," Mariko said, "I'm sorry, daddy."

"It's okay," he smiled. "Try a bite of your naco, honey."

Mariko was going to ask Kim if she had ever eaten a naco before, but when she looked up, her friend was gone.

V.

_It's not okay. It's **not** okay. **It's not!**_

Kim had run from the kitchen and was now sitting at the top of the stairs where she hoped she was out of Mariko's earshot. Even so, she covered her mouth to muffle her sobs.

All the tension Kim had been feeling from the previous evening, all the spoken worries and unacknowledged fears she had about the trip erupted to the surface when she heard that Ron's father was dead. Her grief went beyond the regret she felt for not having been around to ease Ron and his mother's mourning. The knowledge that Donald Stoppable was dead had opened up for Kim the fact that she had loved the man.

He had always seemed to be a background figure in her life. Certainly, she had had more interactions with Barbara Jo; she didn't even believe that she had had more than a handful of very brief conversations with Ron's father. Yet he was a really nice man. He always seemed so supportive of Ron, and, unlike Ron's mother, he never voiced any doubts about his son's safety while he was on one of her missions. He had trusted her.

Then there was the memory of the look of happiness in Donald Stoppable's eyes when they first went to Ron's house after Junior prom. When he saw that Kim and Ron were a couple, Kim could tell that Donald was cheering inside.

That had meant a lot to her. She didn't know how much until now. Now that he was gone.

Her distorted vision of the lower steps and the Stoppables' living room, blurred by tears that she could not stop, belied the truth that the Middleton Kim Possible had grown up in, the world she had known, was fading and dwindling from existence. If not already gone.

* * *

To be continued ...


	5. Five

I.

The back of Kim's throat was sore from crying.

As she was drying her eyes with the right sleeve of her peasant shirt, Kim wondered idly what time it was. It felt like she had been on that top step forever. So she was mildly surprised when she made her way down the stairs and saw, by the clock over the hutch, that it was only eight-thirty.

She was considerably more surprised when she turned toward the kitchen and caught a flash of pink hurtling in her direction. Her quicksilver reflexes took over, and she easily dodged the projectile by diving to the floor.

"What in the world was that?" Kim said looking back toward the kitchen. Not seeing anything, she turned around and scanned the living room. Something small and pink was lying on the recliner. She got to her feet and walked toward the chair. It was a small toy in a clear plastic bag. From what she could guess, it was a bunny rabbit wearing a sombrero.

Just then, Kim heard heavy footsteps coming her way; she turned and saw Ron walking quickly toward her from the kitchen. She got out of his way just as the first strains of the keening began. He quickly snatched the toy from the recliner and stuffed it into his pocket. The look on his face was not pleased.

"Ronald, can I speak with you a minute?" Barbara Jo's voice echoed from the kitchen.

Kim immediately knew what that tone meant. She remembered hearing it numerous times during her childhood when she would bunk over at Ron's.

Kim faintly heard Barbara Jo say something sweetly to Mariko and then, seconds later, saw her march out of the kitchen wearing a look not much different than her son's. Kim skirted out of her way and sat on what had been her accustomed spot on the couch's arm.

"Just what is going on, Ron?" she hissed in a low voice.

"Those idiots!" Ron hissed back. "They put that stupid toy in her meal even after you told them not to!"

"Not so loud," his mother admonished in a slightly lower voice. "It was just a mistake, Ron, why are you getting so upset?"

"I'd never make that mistake," he said harshly.

A moment of tense silence passed.

"I know you wouldn't have, Ron," Barbara Jo said gently. "But why is this such a big deal? Why did you throw it into the living room?"

"I didn't _throw_ it," Ron said, his teeth clenched and his eyes closed. "I _tossed_ it."

Kim could feel the tension bubbling within Ron. And it scared her.

Fortunately, his mother sensed it too, and when she spoke again, she maintained her gentle voice. "Why, Ron, why did you toss it?"

"If she saw it, she'd want to play with it," Ron explained. "Heck," he said, in a suddenly much more relaxed voice, " _I_ wanted to play with it when I saw it, and it's a girl's toy!"

This got a relieved smile from both his mother and his best friend.

"So?" Barbara Jo pursued.

"So, she'd be hurt when we couldn't take it back home with us."

"I see," Barbara Jo said, the edge coming back into her voice. "The MeisterBurgher strikes again."

Deflated, Ron shook his head, "Mom, please don't call him that."

"It's true, isn't it?" she shot back. "No toys, no pictures, no crayons ..."

"Mom," Ron said in a voice that was equal despair and exasperation, "I don't want to go through this again."

"Ron," his mother said firmly, "that school-"

Ron held up his hand, "Please, Mom."

"… is no place for a child."

Ron fell back into the recliner and stared at his lap.

"Ronnie, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, Mom," Ron said not looking up.

Kim got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen. As much as the idea of someone "talking sense" to Ron about that horrible school appealed to her, she knew that neither Ron nor his mother realized how loudly they were actually speaking. Someone needed to run interference between Mariko and their conversation which threatened to erupt again at any moment. And, besides, she could tell that their conversation was going to resolve nothing. And that depressed her.

She had already been depressed enough for one night.

II.

As Kim stepped into the kitchen, the lights went out. Just before being suddenly plunged into darkness, she had caught sight of Mariko's empty chair.

A second later, a snatch of guileless laughter from the corner told Kim there was nothing to be alarmed about.

The lights flicked back on. Then off again.

"What are you doing?" Kim asked with a smile, her hands on her hips.

"Look, Rufina!" Mariko cried happily. "I can make it dark!"

"So I see," Kim said in the direction of Mariko's voice. "Can you make it light again?"

"Uh-huh!" And she turned the light back on.

"Isn't it beautiful, Rufina?" Mariko said shielding her eyes and pointing to the light fixture over the kitchen table.

"Uh … I suppose," Kim said.

"I like pink flowers," Mariko explained as she climbed back into her chair. "Are they lotus flowers?"

"Hmm?" Kim didn't know what Mariko was talking about. But seeing that she was still looking intently at the fixture, Kim looked too. There was a small ring of flowers painted around the base of the fixture. "I-I don't know, sweetie, I've never noticed them before." To Kim's knowledge, this was the same fixture (perhaps even the same bulb) that the Stoppables' had had in their kitchen as long as she could remember.

"But you're right. It is pretty," she said easing into Ron's empty chair next to Mariko. The little girl had apparently eaten her entire meal. There wasn't a chip left. However, it looked like she hadn't touched her soda. The glass looked full and the bendy straw was still straight.

"Did you like your naco?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded.

"Did you know your daddy invented them?"

"That's what Bubbe said."

"Your dad is a ferociously good cook." Kim said with a nod.

"He is?" Mariko asked.

"Yes," Kim said a little disappointed. "Doesn't he cook for you at home?"

"No," Mariko shook her head.

After a few seconds of silence, Kim brightened, "Well, maybe he'll cook for you while you're here."

Mariko flashed Kim a smile and then turned her attention to her glass of soda and frowned.

"Don't you want your soda?"

Mariko dropped her head upon her folded arms that were resting on the table. She nodded.

_She looks so sleepy. Well, she did travel half-way across the world today._

Kim smiled briefly at the memories of how she used to do the same thing, sometimes three days a week.

"Why don't you drink it, sweetie? Too tired?" Since it was Ron's favorite anti-cola caffeine-free soda, Kim didn't feel a couple of sips would keep the little girl up all night.

Mariko shook her head. "Too hot."

"Too hot?" Kim asked.

"It's still bubbling." Mariko explained.

"Sweetie, that doesn't mean it's hot," Kim laughed, "that's just the carbonation."

"Carba-" Mariko struggled with the word.

_Oh, **that'll** be an easy one to explain._

"Yeah, carbonation is this … special gas they put in the soda to make the bubbles." Kim said, actually quite impressed with her answer.

Mariko seemed to understand. But there was one problem: "Why?"

"Why? Uh … well … to make the soda … fun?" Kim's look of desperate/confusion/frustration got Mariko to laugh.

"You're funny, Rufina," Mariko said as she bent her straw to test the soda. "I like you."

"I like you, too," Kim replied, "but you're going to tip that glass over." Kim steadied Mariko's hand against the tottering glass, so that it sat flat against the table.

"Ooooh, it _is_ cold," Mariko said when her hand touched the glass. She put her mouth around the straw and ... sat there.

"You have to suck the soda up the straw, Mariko," Kim said with feigned exasperation. When the little girl gave her a perplexed look, Kim explained, "Like this-" and then puckered her lips and sucked in her cheeks.

When Mariko giggled, she inadvertently blew through her straw, causing the soda's surface to erupt in bubbles.

"Yes, yes!" Kim exclaimed. "Just like that, but in reverse!"

Mariko did as she was told and the anti-cola traveled up her straw and into her mouth. However, the delight in her eyes quickly faded; she made a face and shook her head.

"You don't like it?"

"Nuh-uh," Mariko said, "it's yucky!"

"Probably for the best," Kim mused. She got up and looked about the kitchen for something else for Mariko to drink. She absently tugged on the refrigerator's door twice before she remembered that she could not open it. Then she noticed one of the pantry doors was ajar. She peered inside and noticed a red box near the edge of the top shelf. She stood on her tip toes and confirmed her hope that the box wasn't empty-in fact, it had not been opened. "Spankin'!"

Turning back to the table, Kim asked, "How would you like some cocoa, sweetie?"

"Yay!" Mariko cheered in a voice that reflected Kim's enthusiasm.

Still smiling, Kim shook her head, "You have no idea what cocoa is, do you?"

Mariko shook her, also still smiling.

"Well, ask your Bubbe to make you some. I'm sure you'll like it."

As Kim sat back down next to Mariko, she let her eyes wander about the room.

"Rufina?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Kim said, setting her focus back on Ron's daughter.

"Why are you sad?"

Kim thought she'd had "the upbeat thing" down. She had even convinced herself that things were okay for the moment. Mariko had seen right through that.

_No more lies, Possible._

"I'm sorry," Kim began. "I'm just sad that Ron's fa-, that your daddy's father is dead."

_Keep it together, Possible._

"He was a really nice man," Kim paused. She was so close to crying again, and she so didn't want upset Mariko. "I-I think you would have really liked him." She closed her eyes and chewed her bottom lip. Yet she still felt a few tears roll down her left cheek.

"It's okay, Rufina," Mariko said in a small, calming voice. She placed her right hand on Kim's knee and patted it twice. "Sometimes people die," she explained, trying her best not to think about her mother. The little girl was worried that _her_ tears might make her new friend even sadder. "Sometimes people die."

III.

The space heater made the Stoppable home's small deck very toasty. The snow had stopped, but the glow of the porch light upon the backyard made the night take on a wintry ghost-like appearance. His daughter bundled up in a comforter beside him, Ron sat on the patio bench, his second mug of cocoa steaming in his hand. Mariko had quickly finished her first cup and was snoring loudly. Barbara Jo stood near the edge of the deck, nursing her first mug and bemusedly listened to her granddaughter sleep.

Kim stood off to the left of the bench. With Ron's arm draped along its back, she could only get so close before the painful screaming would begin.

"This was a very good idea, Mom," Ron said between sips.

"Thank Rufina," Barbara Jo smiled.

"Huh?"

"Mariko told me it was _her_ idea to have cocoa." Barbara Jo chuckled. "So what _is_ the story with her anyway?"

"Beats me," Ron shrugged.

His mother shot him a look that said an absent shrug wasn't going to cut it.

"Seriously," he explained. "Mariko started talking about her yesterday ... right before I told her we were coming to visit."

Ron stared off into the night. Then he said, "She is really amped about the snow."

"Yeah," his mother said blowing on her cocoa although it had been cool for quite some time. "On TV they said this was most snow Middleton's had this time of year since before you were born." They sipped their cocoa and listened to the wind for a few moments. "I just can't get over how much she's grown in six months," Barbara Jo said, trying to keep the silence between her son and herself to a minimum.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. "I can't believe it's only been half year since you visited."

Kim could feel the tension shifting between the two of them; she had always been able to tell when Ron or his mother or both had been wanting to bring up something difficult.

Finally, Barbara Jo spoke. "Ron, I called Rabbi Katz and he said-"

"No," Ron said firmly. He made sure Mariko was positioned so she wouldn't fall over and then stood up. "No, no, no."

"Ron, he was really helpful for me when your father passed."

Kim took advantage of Ron's departure and sat next to Mariko. The warmth of the little girl's body flowed in beats through the comforter into Kim.

"Mom," Ron said walking to the side of the deck opposite his mother. "I-"

"Don't say you're okay, Ron," she interrupted.

Ron looked out into the yard. He seemed, to Kim at least, to be mulling several things over in his mind. Finally, he sighed. "I wasn't going to say that, Mom."

"Yes, you were."

"No, Mom, I'm not fine." Ron sounded depressed by his own voice. "I was going to say that I have been thinking about this every minute since it happened, and I would like, at least for tonight, not to think about it."

The silence after Ron spoke lasted for only a few minutes, but the minutes seemed to drag on and on. Then it started to flurry.

"You should call Felix and Monique," Barbara Jo said in a tone that tried to be as cheery as possible.

"Maybe."

_Yes, Ron! Call Mon and Felix, play Zombie Madness or whatever it's called._

"They both understand, Ron. I explained this to you before."

"I know. I just wish I could have been there." Ron said gloomily.

_Waitaminute ... what are they talking about?_

"And I'm sure Justin would love to meet Mariko," Ron's mom said with an easy, unforced smile.

"Justin?" Ron and Kim said in unison.

Kim was so flabbergasted by the possibilities this name suggested that it didn't occur to her to even _think_ "Jinx."

"Now, I know I told you about THAT, Ron!" Barbara Jo said in mock anger.

"Nuh-uh!" Ron said with a broad smile. "You did NOT tell me they had a baby!" Ron walked back over to his seat and eased down next to his child.

As he sat down, Kim stood up. However, even in her numbed shock at the bombshell Ron's mom had just dropped, she was able to steady Mariko's sleeping form before Ron pulled his daughter into a gentle embrace.

"He's no more a baby than Mariko." Barbara Jo shook her head. "I KNOW I told you about this."

"NO way, mom!" Ron protested with a smile. "There is no way I would have forgotten something as big as that!"

Kim walked over to where Ron had been standing and faced the yard. Her head was swimming, but in a good way.

_Felix and Mon are ... are married! And they have a little boy!_

Kim remembered that Ron had been trying to convince Felix to ask Monique to the senior prom, but Felix had been worried that Mon was still going out with Brick. Kim had been able to confirm that Monique and Brick hadn't been an item since Christmas and that Felix should go for it. Monique had seemed so happy when she interrupted a mission in Ireland to tell Kim that Felix had finally asked her.

As Kim looked over Ron's glittering back yard as it filled even deeper with snow, she whispered her friends' son's name to the night. "Justin." As she did, Kim felt a pleasant warm flutter pass across her belly.

Then she heard the patio door click closed behind her.

_Oh no._

She turned around and, through the glass French doors, saw Ron carrying Mariko through the living room as his mother flipped off the porch light.

_Shoot!_

But then Kim realized something strange-she couldn't stop smiling. The news about Felix and Mon _and Justin_ was just too wonderful. Besides, she could always sneak back inside in the morning when Ron's mom went to work or to get the paper or whatever. The only annoying thing was that she would have to sit outside for eight hours with nothing to do.

_Waitaminute! Why do I need to hang around here all night?_

Kim hesitantly stepped out onto the yard. It was a strange sensation, but she found that she was walking _on top_ of the snow. Her traction wasn't the best, but it was doable. Besides, so what if she slipped and fell? It wasn't like she could hurt herself. Kim made her way across the yard, trying to get used to the odd sensation of skirting across the snow's surface. As she reached the Stoppable's wooden fence, she shifted her weight and jumped. She executed an almost perfect handstand on the top of the fence and was over.

As Kim tried to decide where to go in her hometown, she found herself giddily repeating Felix and Mon's son's name.

"Justin ... that is so cool!"

IV.

The snow had tapered off again. Before it did Kim had noticed that, like the snow beneath her feet, the flakes behaved strangely about her. At first she assumed they were melting before they could touch her. However, under the glow of a streetlamp, she was able to fully observe what was happening. The flakes were either swirling about her-almost even "dodging" her, or when a handful of flakes did land on her, they would slide down the length of her body until they reached the ground. Just as she was skirting the top of the snow banks, the snow was skirting _her_. Furthermore, although her peasant shirt and capris were designed for spring or perhaps early autumn weather, she found that she was not even chilly walking down the snow-covered sidewalks.

The sidewalks were deserted and there were only a few cars on the streets. There was a yellowish glow above the tree line. Over this milky penumbra, the dark overcast sky looked as though it was descending upon the city. It was this sight, and not the temperature of the wind swirling about her, that made Kim shiver ever so slightly.

There were a handful of destinations around Middleton that Kim would have entertained visiting on her journey that evening. Unfortunately, other than Middleton High, which was undoubtedly closed and locked tight, they were all the houses of friends. Friends who had probably moved away years ago. Then, of course, there was the place she was certainly _not_ ready to visit ... no, definitely not yet.

Her home.

However, emboldened by the discovery of her friends' new family and feeling the resurgence of the strong confidence and optimism, which she had always considered her true spirit, Kim was determined to visit one place before venturing anywhere else.

_I can do anything, right? Then I can do this._

The spot in the park where she had died.

Kim knew that if she didn't confront it as soon as possible, the place would come to haunt her. Her afterlife, if, indeed, that was what this was, had been difficult enough already. She so didn't need to make it worse by empowering her killer or her death by failing to confront the piece of ground where her life had ended.

_No big. It'll be no big._

However, it did turn out to be "big," but not in a way Kim expected. **She couldn't find it.** Retracing her steps from what had been, for her at least, just a few days earlier, Kim was dumbfounded that she could not locate the tree she had been standing under. On the way to the park, she had entertained the notion that the tree might be taller than she remembered, but she had certainly anticipated finding it.

She felt sure she had the other landmarks correct-not more than twenty feet beyond the jogger run, within sight of the lake, now frozen and coated with snow. But maybe she was wrong about them as well. As she had marched confidently across the park she had passed a snow-draped birdbath-type-thing that she hadn't recognized. Perhaps, many things had changed.

After convincing herself that she was, in fact, in the correct section of the park, she edged the perimeter of a small grove of trees that bordered the small open area she was sure she had been picking up litter in just before it happened. Maybe, she had misjudged the tree's location. However, this proved futile as well.

Finally, it occurred to her that maybe the tree was no longer there; maybe it had been cut down.

Giving up, Kim let her eyes wander across the snow-filled park. She still didn't know what time of the year it was. Barbara Jo's cryptic remark earlier suggested it could be late autumn or even early spring. Regardless, Kim reflected that the darkened park, with the random lamp post throwing dim, almost amethyst lights across the snow banks, looked quite pretty. It was nice to be able to simply take in such a pleasant sight, to do something other than think about her sitch. She absently reflected that since all the trees were naked, she could see from one end of the park to the other. As she scanned the empty park, she caught the faint twinkle of the lights inside the Silver Gazebo on the park's outer edge.

For the second time that night, Kim's stomach fluttered.

V.

They were walking back to Kim's house from Temple. Ron noticed the rolling storm clouds before Kim did. It was so odd, the sky had been so blue an hour earlier-the kind of blue so brilliant that it hurts to look at.

"Looks like it's going to pour," Kim said in a depressed voice. They had planned on boating at the lake; the local news had said nothing about thunderstorms.

"Tornando," Ron corrected her.

She rolled her eyes. "That's _green_ sky, Ron, not a-" Kim glanced up at the angry clouds that seemed to be churning overhead and headed in their direction "-a pitch black sky of doom."

"Want to run for it?" Ron asked in agitated voice.

"Oh yeah!" Kim nodded.

They took off, trying to outdistance the storm that seemed to be increasing its speed exponentially. It soon became obvious to Kim that they'd never make it to her parents' without getting soaked. However, if they went through the park, they might make it to Ron's in time, maybe …

"Let's cut through the park," Kim said between breaths.

"Gotcha, KP," Ron wheezed in reply.

The cloudburst overtook them not three hundred feet into the park. The rain was falling so hard that Kim could barely see five feet in front of her. Ron had fallen behind, so she slowed her pace-the last thing she wanted was to lose track of him.

Suddenly, she heard Ron yelp. When she turned around he was holding his head.

_Oh no!_

"Oww!" Kim yelled as she, too, got clocked with a hail stone. She ran back to Ron, snatched up his hand, and they both took off as fast as they could see.

The rain was coming down even harder and with the added challenge of dodging hail stones it was becoming nearly impossible for Kim to know where they were headed.

"KP! KP!" Ron gestured wildly off to their right.

Someone had either thoughtfully turned on the gazebo's lights or the darkness of the storm had activated them automatically-either way, they were the rescue Kim and Ron sorely needed. The two teens dashed in their direction and in less than a minute were out of the downpour and catching their breaths inside the rotundra.

"How's your head?" Kim managed.

Ron nodded as he continued to heave. After ten seconds or so, his breathing seemed more in control. "Yours?"

"Fine," Kim said.

They were both soaked to the bone. It was the most violent thunderstorm Kim could ever remember getting caught in. Spring storms were usually pretty bad, but still. Then she realized that she didn't recall seeing any lightning or hearing any thunder. Still didn't. Odd.

The sound of teeth chattering drew her attention away from the storm. At first she assumed it was Rufus, awakened by the commotion and hungrily scarfing down a piece of cheese Ron kept in his pocket. But no, _Ron's teeth_ were chattering. He was hugging his arms to his chest, dripping and shivering.

"Are you cold, Honey?" Kim asked.

He reddened and nodded.

Kim knew how much calling him "Honey" pleased Ron. She walked to him, stepped into his embrace, and enfolded him into her arms. He was freezing! She was just wearing a long spring dress, but even in a dress shirt and slacks, he was much, much colder than she was. After holding him for a moment, Kim gently un-tucked his shirt from behind and placed her warm arms against the bare skin of his back.

His teeth stopped chattering, but his shivering only increased. After a minute, he felt much warmer, but his shivering hadn't gone down. Kim was starting to worry.

"Do you still feel cold, Ron?" she asked, her head held against his chest. His heart was in a frenzy.

"N-no," he managed.

She flashed him a look. Something in his eyes caught her breath.

"K-Kim." The tone of his voice was saying what his eyes were also telling her. Ron's trembling had nothing to do with being cold.

"Yes?" she breathed.

Two tears beaded against Ron's rain-slicked skin and rolled down his left cheek. "Kim," Ron choked, "I l-love you."

Kim had always thought she would be the one to first say the "l" word. In fact, she had planned on telling Ron how deeply she felt for him at the prom in a few weeks. Although his admission spoiled her surprise, it was so worth it.

She couldn't remember saying it back to him. She couldn't remember when their kiss began nor when it ended. Neither the continuous rain or the building wind made any impression upon her. And she couldn't, for the life of her, remember Rufus squeezing himself out of their embrace with an annoyed squeak and a shake of his first. All this Ron confirmed for her later.

No, all she could remember after Ron spoke was the pulse of their kiss.

Kim reflected that people use words like "perfect," "wonderful," and "glorious" to describe such moments not because they actually capture what the moments feel like. In fact, at times like those, words and their meanings did not really matter. The words were only leaping off points for when someone plunged into being. Or reference points when the person wished to share the ineffable memory with someone they loved.

VI.

Kim turned away from the distant beacon of the gazebo at the call of a _very familiar_ voice.

"Sean! Sean!"

Kim could see a woman, bundled in a thick coat with matching ear muffs and boots, running through the snow some twenty yards behind her. Ahead of the woman was a small figure tearing across the field in Kim's direction at a pretty impressive rate. With each passing moment, the distance between the two seemed to grow and grow.

"Sean! Come back here!"

The little boy only giggled a response.

Even before the woman got within twenty feet of her, Kim recognized her.

"Tara!" she cried out.

Sean ran passed Kim some ten feet to her right. He got to the top of a small incline behind Kim and waited until his mother had gotten within a snowball's throw of his position. After easily dodging his mother's toss, Sean took off down the hill some ten feet to Kim's left. This entire scene delighted Kim, and she could not stop laughing.

"Come back here!" Tara yelled as she bent down and scooped up a handful of snow to make into a second snowball to toss at her son.

"What's taking so long?" called another familiar voice from down at the jogger run. A tall man, also bundled in layers of winter clothes was leading a large dog on lease.

"A little help would be nice." Tara called back crossly.

"Hey, I'm looking after one pet," the man replied in a very relaxed tone, "you're supposed to be looking after the other one."

_Josh? Josh Mankey?_

"Josh, _your son_ is not a pet!" Tara cried as she missed Sean with the second snow ball.

"So you keep telling me," Josh replied laconically.

Tara attempted, with some success, to herd her son back down to where his father was waiting with their dog. Kim happily followed them down the hill. Her walking ability on the snow had evolved, especially on a downward incline, to something between skipping and skating. Just as the boy got within an arm's reach of his father, he shot off in another direction up the jogger run.

When Tara reached Josh, Josh absently pointed in the direction the Sean had gone. "He went thattaway."

"Thanks," Tara said as she walked passed him. "Thanks a lot!"

Kim had been laughing and smiling so much in the last five minutes that her face actually ached. This was just too much. Tara and Josh made such a great couple. And, if he had slowed down enough for her to get a good look at him, Kim would have bet their son was adorable too-how could he not be considering his parents' looks. But much more than how good they might look, what made Kim feel so great was how happy the family seemed.

She watched as Tara bent down to make a third snowball to pelt her son. Sean saw her do it, too, and made a beeline for that birdbath thing. Once he reached it, he tried to hide behind it. However, he got his scarf stuck in the sculpture's ornate top. In one of its brambles.

_Brambles? What is that thing? A-are those roses?_

When he realized that one end of his scarf was snared on one of the barren thorns at the top of the short sculpture, Sean began yanking and tugging on his scarf's other end to get it loose.

"Sean!" Tara cried suddenly. There was a definite edge to her voice. "Sean! Stop that! Stop!" Tara had absently dropped the snowball and was racing toward her son.

Although the boy was still giggling, his mother's agitated tone had definitely gotten his father's attention.

When Josh saw what was happening, he yelled, "Sean! Did you hear your mother! STOP!"

Kim was shocked by Josh's voice and change in demeanor. She had never heard him speak so sharply, and she had never seen him so angry before.

Sean must have been shocked as well. He stood stock still until his mother reached him. She carefully unhooked his scarf, took him by the hand, and gingerly led him back to his father.

As they were walking by, Kim could hear Tara trying to console her boy; he was crying. "Daddy didn't mean to yell at you," Tara was explaining. "We were just afraid you were going to break it, Honey. That's something very special. It's for one of Mommy and Daddy's old friends. It would be terrible if you were to break it ... even by accident."

Rubbing his nose on his recently freed scarf, Sean sniffled, "I could tell your friend I was sorry."

"I'm sorry, Honey," Tara continued in her soothing tone. "You couldn't. She's in heaven."

Kim was looking in the direction of the "bird bath" but she was seeing nothing. She could hear Josh and Tara and Sean talking about "the memorial" and that everything was "okay." Their dog barked. Sean giggled. And then their voices got softer and softer until, like the sound of their boots in the snow, they faded away into silence.

It began to snow again.

VII.

Bonnie Rockwaller had been right.

Kim was sitting in the middle of the Silver Gazebo. With her left arm just below her knees, she held her legs to her chest. With her right hand she hugged her left shoulder. She had been in that position for what seemed like hours. Although she did not feel the chill of the blistering wind and driving snow about her, she couldn't get warm either.

She didn't remember walking to the gazebo, not exactly. It wasn't another blackout; she recalled walking through the storm aimlessly for a while. Then suddenly she found herself here.

She was trying so hard not to think. So hard.

But it wasn't any use.

A month before the prom she never attended, she had read a story for her English Honors class. Kim was too weary to recall all the details, but at the story's end, a character was staring out at the falling snow, crying for someone who was long dead, someone he had never known. He was crying for his wife's childhood sweetheart.

Before she died, Kim had been thinking about kissing Ron. And longing for the time when they would be able to do so much more.

There was a movie, some old western that Ron had wanted to see freshman year. Kim hadn't really been interested and was only half-watching, but one of the characters had said something that really made an impression on her at the time. In effect, the character said that killing someone was terrible because you were not only taking away everything that person had; you were taking away all they ever would have.

In the locker room before Tri-City Cheer Semi-finals Senior year, Bonnie had egged and annoyed Kim into admitting that she and Ron had not gone "all the way." Although Bonnie thought it was hilarious and called Kim a prude, Kim had been quite proud that she and Ron were waiting and taking things slow physically. The shine on Bonnie's snarkiness had been dulled when Tara weighed in on Kim's side and said that she and Josh were also waiting. As a parting shot, Bonnie had muttered that Kim would probably die a virgin.

Bonnie had been right after all. And Yori had taken everything that might have been.

She would never make love.

She would never get married.

She would never have a child.

She would never have a family of her own.

Kim felt so numb. She was too cold inside to cry anymore.

The wind died down and the storm became flurries again. Kim watched a single flake waver and flicker in the air a few feet in front of her. She held out her left hand to where she anticipated the flake would float. It landed in her palm. Like quicksilver, it slid across her skin, over the edge of her hand, in and out of her sleeve, and landed in the snow by her knee. There was no question of ever finding that white speck again; it was lost in the infinite whiteness that seemed to spread to every direction of Kim's empty universe.

She didn't want to ever move. She just wanted to stay right where she was.

_Don't think. Don't think. Don't think._

VIII.

And then she remembered.

_"You're funny, Rufina. I like you."_

Kim got to her feet and took off for Ron's house as fast as she could go.

* * *

To be continued …

 **A/N:** The kiss in the gazebo was inspired by Goofmore's beautiful picture "Moon River."

The scene with Kim alone in the gazebo was inspired in part by James Joyce's short story "The Dead" and Samuel Beckett's five-page novel _Imagination Dead Imagine_.


	6. Six

I.

As Kim raced toward the edges of Middleton Park, she found herself daydreaming about Mariko. Or, more to the point, she found the little girl playing games among her thoughts.

Her mind curled about and embraced one image in particular: Mariko, Rufus and Justin playing hide-and-seek in her loft. Since Kim had not yet met Justin, he was the one who was hiding. Mariko skipped across the top of Kim's bed and hopped to the floor to see if he was hiding underneath. Rufus was diligently, if not too fruitfully, helping by going through the drawers of Kim's computer desk. Mariko then approached Kim's closet, slid open the door, and began searching among Kim's dresses. As Mariko disappeared among Kim's old clothes, Kim realized how badly she wanted this reverie to come true. She so wanted to show the little girl all her childhood toys, to have her meet her parents and her brothers, and to introduce her to Pandaroo. And how very much she wanted to tell Mariko about the adventures she had had with her daddy.

But none of that could happen unless Mariko knew the truth. Unless Mariko knew who Kim really was.

Kim resolved that revealing her true identity would be the very first thing she did when she saw Mariko again. At least, the first thing after hugging the little girl to pieces.

_But ... **how** do I do that?_

A number of options occurred to her, none of them satisfying.

_Doesn't matter. I'll-I'll do it somehow! It has to be done._

Reaching the boundary of the park, Kim caught sight of a crease, in the otherwise, complete and uniform cloud cover. The bluish-gray aura of the overcast sky halted just at the horizon. There, the rising sun pulsed a deep, fierce red. It almost hurt to look at it. With her eyes squinting slightly, Kim could make out a few brilliant rays extending across the base of the sky to the far south. For some reason, this concentrated light recalled to her the flat edge of a sword.

And that reminded her of the Lotus Blade, the sword that Ron had been chosen to carry. She had never seen the sword herself. Only heard about it and what it could do. Or, more specifically, what _Ron could with it_.

"Aaaah!" Suddenly blinded, Kim staggered and held her hands to her eyes.

As she shielded her eyes and blinked them clear, she realized she was staring into a cloudless, blue sky. A very bright and intense early afternoon sun was beating down on her. As she looked around, she noticed that although snow still covered the yards and houses, the streets and sidewalks had been plowed. A few pedestrians, bundled in heavy coats, hurried by on the opposite side of the street, their visible breath belying the sun's brightness. Getting her bearings, Kim realized she was not on the same street she had been on a moment earlier. In fact, she was on _her_ street. Her house would be on her right just over the next hill.

_Oh no! How long have I been gone this time?_

Kim fervently hoped that the "black out" had only been for a few hours and that this was still only Ron and Mariko's first full day in Middleton. Part of her, however, believed that at least a handful of days had transpired. And a dark corner in her mind that Kim tried her best to ignore whispered that the brief flash had been more than two weeks and that Ron and Mariko were already back at Yamanouchi.

She ran as fast she could back to Ron's house. What had moments ago been fluffy new fallen snow was now glazed over with a thick sheen of sleet/refeeze/whatever, and her motion was nowhere near as easy or smooth. She fell several times as she cut across lawns and skidded down icy sidewalks. The initial pains in her elbows and knees stung as they normally would have, but, upon inspection, the falls left no visible injuries. Moreover, the pains subsided with eye-flashing quickness, usually gone by the time she got to her feet again.

As she rounded the corner of Ron's street, her heart sank. There were no cars in the driveway, and the house looked dark. She checked the living room window and then ran around to look in through those framing the porch. It didn't look as if anyone was home. She thought about calling out loud for Mariko, but changed her mind. Another thought struck her. Then a thought that had been just at the edge of her consciousness and had, in fact, been chasing after her all the way back to Ron's finally caught up with her.

_Oh, Possible! You are so stupid!_

Every time she had "returned" before, she had come back right where she needed to be. Why would this time be any different?

Trying to be somewhat more careful, or at least as careful as the mounting desperation in her breast would allow, Kim sped back the way she had come. She managed to fall only twice, forgetting both times that shrubbery no longer had any give for her. As she cut back over to her street and crossed the point where "this day" had begun for her, Kim slowed her pace. Although her heart and her mind compelled her to make it to her house as fast as she could, something inside, something in-between them, made her hesitate. Did she really want to see her home? Her parents? Her brothers?

The thought that any one of them might be gone like Donald Stoppable stopped her in her tracks. She reflexively placed a hand over her mouth and shut her eyes.

_No, no. Can't think like that. Remember Mariko. Remember Mariko._

She opened her eyes and resolutely pressed ahead. As she did so, she tried focusing on small details in the yards and houses as she passed. She half-heartedly tried to be amused by the fact that although all the neighbors had apparently purchased new cars in the intervening years each car still looked exactly like everyone else's. In fact, bundled up in their winter coats all the neighbors looked practically uniform-whether they were carrying in groceries, checking their mailboxes, or putting up Christmas lights.

"Christmas lights!" Kim smiled for the first time that "day." There was the reed-like figure of old Mr. Goodwin, her next-door neighbor for as far back as she could remember, working with a string of lights over his garage door. Mr. Goodwin always put his lights up a week before Thanksgiving. So it was late autumn after all! Kim wondered if Mariko had ever had a Holiday Season, and then if she and Mariko could somehow convince Ron to stay in Middleton for Hanukkah and maybe even Christmas.

The images of Ron's little girl seeing her first lit menorah, playing with her first dreidel, or even just watching Snowman Hank flooded Kim with such good feelings that she was only half aware that she had already begun walking up her own driveway. And Barbara Jo's SUV was parked in the driveway next to her mother's mini-van. It was so like her mother to keep that old car all these years, Kim mused. If it was dependable, why would Ann Possible feel the need to replace it?

Her smile faded as she reached the walk however. No matter the good omens and thoughts from the last moments, there was no way entering her home again wasn't going to be _so_ big. As she reached the door, she sighed heavily. She didn't know if she should start calling for Mariko or maybe go around the first floor windows to see if she could see the little girl and maybe get her attention.

_If she'll still look at me._

The thought had taken Kim by surprise, but it was true. A valid doubt. What if Mariko already knew the truth? Already knew who she was? And that Kim had lied to her? What could she ever do to regain the little girl's trust again?

Kim fought against this rising tide of despair and decided to call for Ron's daughter regardless of what followed. But her voice died before she could choke the first syllable out.

And then the keening began.

II.

Kim stepped away from the front door, but kept an eye trained on the knob. Obviously, Ron was already inside; the parked SUV indicated that. The keening necessarily meant he was going to open the front door, or, at the very least, was on the other side of it. She so hoped he and Mariko weren't preparing to leave. Although part of her was relieved at the thought of a brief visit, her "loft daydreams" from earlier still had a powerful hold on her.

It was strange, but the further she got from the door, the louder the keening became.

_Almost as if ..._

Kim turned and jumped out of the way just as a heavily wrapped figure carrying a package brushed past her up the walk. As she held her ears against the painful shrieking, she recognized the person as Mr. Goodwin, and the "package" was a cardboard box marked "christ-mas lites."

_Why would Mr. Goodwin be bringing my parents Christmas lights?_

The mystery only deepened when instead of ringing the bell or knocking on the door, Mr. Goodwin fished some house keys out of his parka and went to put them in the lock. Refusing to put down the box as he did so was proving to be quite the task. However, the door suddenly opened, and he walked inside.

Although nonplussed about what was going on, Kim wasn't about to miss her chance of getting inside. Holding her ears against a cascading wall of keening, she squeezed inside just as the door shut behind her. She quickly made it to the outer edge of the foyer and the reprieve of silence. Ron was just finishing up locking the front door and trying to help Mr. Goodwin off with his layers of jackets.

"James," Ron said, "I told you I would help you with that. It's too cold to be out there that long."

 _What?_ Kim could have sworn Mr, Goodwin's first name was "Robert."

Removing the scarf that was wrapped tightly about his face, James Possible smiled weakly. "Don't you worry about it, Ronald. I've been in colder temperatures than this. Why just two weeks ago, we did some ultra sub-zero tests on the thrusters for the new deep-space probe."

Ron helped James off with the last jacket.

"Daddy?" Kim breathed, her hand reflexively reaching out toward him. He looked so thin. His hair was completely white, and his eyes looked smaller and weak. And he looked so thin. "Daddy."

"Besides," James continued, "I did promise Mrs. Goodwin to take down her lights as soon as I could. When I saw them a few nights ago when I got home during the storm ... well, I definitely felt like 'so the jerk.'"

"Don't sweat it, James," Ron laughed, "Mr. Goodwin used to keep those lights up year-round."

"Not past St. Patrick's Day he didn't, Ronald," Kim's father said shaking his head.

"Ron!" came a familiar and warm voice from the second-floor landing. "It is okay if I show Mariko _Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs_?"

"Mom?" Kim, who was standing practically beneath the landing, turned around desperately to catch a glimpse of her mother. When she did, she let go a deep breath of relief. Except for a few wrinkles and a couple of stray white hairs, Ann Possible looked exactly the same as when Kim had said good-bye to her on her way to Ron's and then to the park. And she certainly _sounded_ like the same rational optimistic person.

_Thank goodness. Thank goodness._

"Uhhh," Ron hesitated, making a face.

"I could choose something else," Ann said quickly.

"No, that's fine," Ron said reassuringly, "uh, it's just ..."

"Just what, Ron?"

"Well, Mariko's never seen a movie before."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," Ron admitted. "So she might seem a little more ... impressed with it than is ... ah ... normal."

"Well, do you think maybe we should do something else," Ann began.

"No, no," Ron shook his head. "As long as you're with her, Ann, I'm sure it'll be fine." He smiled at her.

"Okay," Kim's mom smiled back. "I'll let you boys know how it goes."

As Ann walked across the landing to the master bedroom, Ron turned to Kim's father and said, "Come on, James, let me get you some hot chocolate or something."

For all the bombshells that Kim had just undergone in such a short period of time, a trivial thing forced its way to the front of her mind. It sounded so wrong, and a little sad, to hear Ron calling her parents by their first names and not by the nicknames he had given them back when he and Kim were four.

III.

_Mariko!_

Kim bounded up the stairs, two steps at a time, as she tried to beat her mother to the master bedroom. Unfortunately, by the time she had reached the top of the staircase, the bedroom door was closed. Kim hurried down the hall anyway. When she reached the door, she thought about knocking. Maybe Mariko could hear her. But she thought better of it. Since she had no effect upon material objects why would she be able to knock? Dejected but still not hopeless, Kim pressed her ear to the door.

She could hear low voices muttering. The previews on the DVD most likely. Then she heard a surprised squeal followed by laughter.

_Sweetheart!_

Kim smiled. There was no way she could mistake the sound of that little girl's voice.

She then heard her mother murmur something. Then Mariko. Then her mom again.

Although she could never discern their words ... well, not exactly ... through the door, Kim was entranced by the sound of their voices. The way they would interweave with each other and counterpoint with the sounds from the cartoon. It just made Kim feel good, feel good all over. Judging from the first moment that she noticed the time on the hall's clock, Kim had stood against the door listening to her mother and her best friend's daughter watch a movie for over half an hour.

Finally, Kim felt compelled to pull herself away from this little oasis and confront her father, in hopes that he had only changed physically and was still as much his old self as her mother appeared to be.

As she made her way back down the hallway, she noticed the Tweebs' door was closed and, disconcertingly, bereft of posters.

_Well, it has been seven or eight years. They probably have finished college and moved out by now._

Her parents living in that large house all alone was a very melancholy thought.

Kim also noticed laundry baskets lining the hallway. There were three of them, two stacked on top each other. It was a small thing, but odd. Her mother had never let laundry get backed up in the past. Even with a full house of kids. Strange.

She walked beneath the ladder to her loft. It looked awfully dark up there. She hesitantly placed a foot on the bottom rung. The first rung always creaked when anyone placed their foot on it. Even Rufus. It's silence now was just another reminder. As if she needed one.

"No," she shook her head against going up. "Not yet. I have to clear up everything with Mariko first." Of course, the idea that her parents had remodeled her bedroom into a study was a possibility, but Kim didn't think it was too likely. And, besides, she didn't need to know that just yet if it was true.

As she made her way down the staircase, it became quite obvious to Kim Possible that there was very little chance that Mariko didn't already know the truth. There were pictures of her _everywhere_. Pictures of her cheerleading, Pixie Scouts, and, of course, a legion of pictures of her with Ron. She and Ron on their first Christmas together as friends. When they were twelve just before the Paisley Mansion sitch. In their mission gear. At the prom.

_Waitaminute! When was this taken?_

As she studied the perplexing photo in the oval frame, she realized that what she had mistaken for herself in a cowboy hat had really been her little cousin Joss.

"Wow! You sure did grow up, Joss." Joss was standing next to a couple of other youngsters also in cowboy gear. A redheaded boy with a piercing stare but a warm smile had his arm twined with hers. Kim smiled at the picture and wondered what Joss's beau's name might be.

She then noticed a picture of three young men wearing Team Possible mission gear. She recognized her little brother Jim on the right immediately. He was older, much taller and had a goatee, but she'd recognize his mischievous smile anywhere. The mischievous look in Tim's _eyes_ was what she recognized next. He had died his hair! Blonde! Just as tall as his twin brother, he was also sporting a goatee. It was the rather buff African-American teen in the middle she was having trouble recognizing.

_Wade? No WAY!_

Not only had Team Possible's tech guru sprouted up in the intervening years (he was slightly taller than the Tweebs), he had also been working out.

"Oh my goodness, you're ripped!" Kim exclaimed to the photo and then smiled warmly. "Brains _and_ Brawn, you definitely have it all going on, Mr. Load."

She stood back to fully appreciate what was, apparently, the new Team Possible. They all had goatees. And even though each was a different color, they were trimmed exactly the same. For some reason, the picture reminded Kim of the Three Musketeers.

Then her eyes came to rest on the photo next to theirs. This photo she had seen before. Quickly, she steadied herself with her left arm against the wall, and, with her right hand, she framed the photo, so she could only see the groom. Although the lines underneath were still evident, Ron's eyes _did_ look happy in the picture. They looked ... relieved. Almost as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his mind, and he was looking forward to a long, pleasant sleep.

Kim stared intently at Ron's eyes for a few minutes longer. Finally, she said gently, barely above a whisper, "I hope she made you happy, Ron. You deserved _at least_ that." She lingered a few moments further on his eyes and then finally pulled hers away.

As Kim reached the bottom step, she smacked herself on the forehead. "Doi!"

_Maybe Mariko wouldn't hear me knock, but she **would** hear me **call** to her!_

Kim was just about to run back up the stairs when her father's voice from the living room made her pause.

"Ronald, I believe I have a way for you to stay in Middleton ... if you'll hear me out."

IV.

"I-I'll listen, James," Ron said with uncertain pleasantness, "I just don't see it happening, that's all."

Kim rounded the corner into the living room. Her father was seated on the couch, but Ron was walking back and and forth across the room, only pausing by chairs to rest a moment on their backs or arms and then moving on to the next "rest stop." Kim had seen Ron do this thousands of times: nervously pacing while trying not to look like he was nervously pacing.

"Fair enough," James Possible said, trying to placate Ron's anxiety, "what roadblocks do you see?"

"Well," Ron began with a heavy sigh, "I'm almost twenty-five and a have daughter. I can't live in Mom's house. It just can't happen."

"I can understand that." James nodded. "Apart from housing what are the problems?"

"Whoa! Whoa!" Ron said holding up his hands. For a second, Kim thought Ron was actually going to address her father as 'MrDrP.' But he disappointed her. "James, you're not suggesting we move in here, are you?"

James Possible responded with a slightly disconcerted look.

Hurriedly, Ron explained, "I mean, don't get me wrong, MrDrP, I really like it here, always have, but, I mean, I couldn't impose like that, and besides I still wouldn't feel like an adult."

Although Ron had not registered the nickname slip, Kim and her father certainly did. On either side of living (and the living room), father and daughter smiled as Ron let the word fall.

Composing his smile, James Possible held up his hand to Ron's objection. "I didn't suggest anything, Ronald. I just wanted to know what your concerns were. Okay?"

"Okay," Ron nodded weakly.

"Number one is housing. Is there a number two?"

"Well, yeah, " Ron said, a youthful color rising to his face as the pitch of his voice intensified, "I mean, sure, I could get my old jobs back at Bueno Nacho or Smartymart, but there is no way that could give Mariko the kind of life she deserves! I mean-Sorry for yelling."

"It's fine, Ron," James said calmly, "the girls are on the other side of the house. All right, housing and career." James nodded. "Anything else?"

Ron gripped the back of the couch, his head hung down, and his shoulders slumped. After a moment of silence when the shifting movement of afternoon shadows could literally be felt, Ron said, "Yeah."

"Ronald," James said in a slow, even serious voice, "this is important. Do you want to come back to Middleton?"

Ron slowly raised his head to face his best friend's father. Tears were pooling in his eyes. He nodded.

"Well, let us help you," James said.

Kim wanted so badly to make herself heard or, at least, to let her presence be felt.

"Let Kim help you," James said.

_What?_

"Huh?" Ron asked, as confused as Kim.

"From what I can remember, you're an excellent cook." James explained.

"Yeah," Ron managed to smile, "I used to be pretty good."

"Well, how'd you like to be 'pretty good' again? And I don't mean working at Bueno Nacho. How about running your own restaurant?"

"What?" Ron asked. "Well yeah, I-I'd love that. But Mr-James, that would cost a fortune! This trip is on Yamanouchi's dime. I had to borrow Mom's car and beg gas money just to get to your house!"

James stifled a laugh. And Kim smiled. Whether Ron knew it or not, he had let a little of his old Ronshine break clear.

"Well," James continued, "perhaps you _do_ have a fortune."

"Was there another Naco Royalty check Mom didn't tell me about?" Ron asked suspiciously.

James chuckled, "Not that I am aware of ... although it wouldn't hurt to ask, I suppose. Actually, I was talking about _other_ funds. Not Grande-sized, maybe, but still enough to get you going."

"H-how much?"

"About three hundred thousand dollars, Ron."

Ron looked about nervously, shook his head, and then said flatly, "I couldn't take that kind of money from you, James."

"Well, that's good," he replied briskly, "because it isn't from me. It's from Kim."

When Ron could only answer with a perplexed look, James motioned for him to sit down. "Let me explain, Ronald. Ann and I set up a fund for Kim back when ... well ... back around the time you two first met actually. When Kim started high school, we realized that with her grades she would likely get scholarships to cover most of her college costs, so we considered it more of a medical school or a law school or a ... whatever fund."

Kim eyes grew wider as she heard her father's words.

_Oh, yes, yes, please!_

"Kim's college money," Ron pronounced sadly.

"Yes, it was going to be," James said, noticing the deflated tone and posture of his young friend.

"James, I can't-"

"Ronald," James Possible said in stern voice, "you and I both know that Kim would want you to have this money."

"YES! Take it, Ron! Take the money!" Kim yelled.

Ron put his hands to his face and slowly, sadly began to shake his head.

"Please take the money, Ron!" She ran to him and inched as close to him as she could get without feeling pain. And then inched closer. "Please, please, Honey, take it! It's yours! Listen to Dad. I want you and Mariko to have it! Please, please, please ..."

"Ronald," James said in a firm, yet less stern voice, "it IS your money. As far as I am concerned, I'm just holding it for you."

Ron again began to shake his head.

"Don't say, 'no,' Ron," James admonished and then smiled, "just say 'not now.'"

Ron immediately relaxed. He attempted to smile at Kim's father, "Okay, not now."

The three of them sat in a calming, yet unpleasant, silence for what seemed a long while.

"Ronald?" Kim's father asked finally.

"James?" Ron replied with as firm a voice as he could manage.

"If you don't mind my asking, why is that your answer?"

Ron blew out his cheeks slightly and said, "Reason number three."

"Ahh," James nodded. And then followed-up with "Which is?"

"Middleton is my home," Ron replied sadly. "But I've gone around a corner and ... and I can't find my way back. I can't come home now."

James looked back over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. He then leaned in over the coffee table that separated them and, looking Ron directly in the eyes, asked in a low voice, "Does this 'corner' have anything to do with Monkey Fist?"

Before Kim could even begin to formulate how the crazed Lord Fisk was in any way involved in Ron's inability to return to Middleton, she noticed that her best friend had instantly become deathly pale.

"Two things, Ron," James said in a hurried whisper, "one, nobody told me about it, and two, I haven't told anyone else."

"Th-then how-?"

"I had my hunches and then I had Wade check out a couple things-he has no idea why I asked him-and I pieced it together."

In the stony silence that threatened to swallow the room again, James tried to interject a note of levity. "After all, Ronald, I _am_ a rocket scientist."

Neither Ron nor Kim laughed.

Kim wasn't quite sure what her father and Ron were talking about, but she strongly felt that she didn't want to know.

"Kim deserved justice. I don't regret it." Ron said, his voice crackling with hatred.

"I know, Ron. I know." James said raising both hands. He then sighed heavily. "Sometimes I feel like ..." He tried twice more to say something, but stopped each time. Finally, James Possible took Ron's hands in his and said in a warm, yet brittle, voice, "I just wish you didn't have to be the one, that's all, Ronald. That's all."

Kim wiped furiously at the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Honey! Honey, they snowed you so bad … so bad." Until that moment, she had only known for certain that Yori had been involved in her death. Now she was equally certain that Sensei knew of it too and probably masterminded it.

Not only did they get the Chosen One all to themselves, they had him eliminate their only adversary.

Kim turned around on the couch and stared into the kitchen. Every time she looked at Ron, she felt like her heart would split. Her poor sweet goofy Ron. For all his attempts at bravado, Ron never wanted to hurt anybody. He used to crack jokes on every mission, not only because they made him feel more confident, but because he secretly wanted to make the villains and their henchmen laugh. The only times he ever really got angry ... angry enough to really hurt someone was when ... was when someone had hurt her.

They had used that against him.

They had made him a killer.

They had killed her, so he would become their killer.

Blinded by the hot tears in her eyes, Kim swore that she would make them pay. She would make the bastards pay for what they had done to her best friend.

V.

When Ann Possible entered the living room, she found Ron and her husband watching roller derby. She found this quite odd since she knew her husband didn't care for the game and she didn't recall Ron ever watching when he held sway over the remote during his many visits during high school. It was almost as if they were watching to have something to do ... or something else to do.

Kim was still huddled in a far corner of the couch, staring at nothing.

"Well, boys," Ann said pleasantly as she could, "how are things going down here?"

"Fine, Hon," James answered.

"Great!" Ron said quickly. "How-how did she do?"

Ann beamed. "She was just great. She was a little scared of the witch at first, but she really, really liked the dwarfs."

Ron gave her a relieved nod.

"She's upstairs sleeping right now. I was wondering if I could convince you, Ron, to come to the store with me."

"Outstanding!" James cried. "It has been some time since we've had a Stoppable-orchestrated dinner."

"Oh, okay, sure." Ron shrugged with a smile. "Can I drop Mom's car off at her office first?"

"Sure, I'll follow you. Hey! Why don't you ask her if she'd like to join us after she's finished."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

As Ann gathered her coats together, she mentioned to her husband that he may want to check on Mariko in about thirty minutes or so.

Kim did not hear any of the dinner arrangements. She was already charging up the stairs, hoping that her mother had left the bedroom door open.

It was shut.

Kim, still trying to shake herself of the rage that was pulsing through her, took a couple of deep breaths and walked down the hallway toward her parents' closed door. She didn't notice the faint light glowing in her loft as she stepped past the ladder.

She still didn't know what she was going to do, and she hated to wake the little girl, but she needed to speak to Mariko as soon as she could. She would probably have more than a little explaining to do. But she could manage it. Or at least she had to hope that she could.

_Please understand, Mariko. Please._

When Kim reached the door, she took a few more breaths to steady her nerves and whispered at the door's edge. "Mariko. Can you hear me, sweetie? It's Rufina. Are you awake? Can you let me in, sweetie?" When she got no answer, she waited a moment and tried again. Still nothing. As she began her third attempt, she heard the creak on the bottom rung of the loft's ladder.

Kim slowly turned around. Mariko was standing stock still five feet away from her. The little girl's expression was flat, and her eyes were difficult to find.

"K-Kim Possible," she said without emotion.

Kim nodded slightly.

And then, in a voice that sounded eerily like her mother's, the little girl said four words.

"You have no honor."

VI.

Kim was shattered from the inside out. Her mind clouded rapidly. She knew that if she fell to her knees, she would never get up again.

But, the little girl's heart broke first.

And it was her voice that breached the gulf that her words had opened up between them. "Why? Why did you lie to me?" she sobbed. "You were my daddy's best friend! I thought you liked me! Why? Why?"

Kim did fall to her knees, but only after she she had reached Mariko. Blessedly, the child did not recoil from her embrace; rather, she folded into it. And then Kim broke down too. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart! I do like you, I _love_ you! I love you a whole lot! I never meant to hurt you. I'm so sorry! So sorry."

Mariko momentarily pulled away from the hug and asked, both cheeks red and damp, "But why? But why?"

Trying to get her voice under control, Kim told the truth. "I was your daddy's best friend. And I knew your daddy would be really sad if he knew I was there but couldn't see me or hear me."

Mariko nodded and let Kim brush away some of her tears. "But why didn't you tell _me_?"

"Sweetie?"

"You could've told me who you were. I would've kept your secret. Promise."

Kim smiled and brushed back Mariko's hair. And then took the plunge.

"Your daddy and I were best friends for a long, long time. And then ... then we fell in love."

"Before he fell in love with my mommy?" the astonished girl whispered.

"Uh-huh," Kim nodded, "and I thought if ...I thought _that_ would make _you_ sad. That you might not like me."

Mariko shook her small head, smiled, and brushed at one of Kim's tears. "You can love more than one person, Rufina."

Kim smiled back. "I guess so. I guess so."

"Uh-huh. That's what my daddy told me."

Kim hugged the little girl tight, and she was hugged back tight, so tight.

"No more lies, Rufina?" Mariko pleaded in a whisper.

"I'll never lie to you again, Mariko," Kim whispered back. "Cross my heart."

VII.

Kim's room didn't look any different than how she had left it on the last day of her life. But it certainly _felt_ different.

Kim sensed it the second she stuck her head through the trap-door opening as she followed Mariko up the ladder. There was something very, very familiar about the feeling it gave her, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. For some reason, it reminded her of Florida.

Mariko or perhaps Kim's mom had turned on her desk lamp. The desk's surface was shiny, so was the lamp shade. In fact, everything looked dusted, clean. Even the cheer trophies on the top of her dresser looked brand new.

Mariko had bounded onto Kim's bed and was sitting in a small divot in the sheets. An imprint, Kim guessed, that the little girl had created when she had first come up to take a nap. The little girl beckoned Kim to join her on the bed. Like everything else, her bed had no give for Kim, but it was comfortable enough.

"Your bed is so soft, Rufina," Mariko exclaimed, "I couldn't get to sleep!"

"Oh! That's right; your mat isn't very soft, is it?"

The little girl shook her head.

"Well, would you like to lay on the carpet then? It makes no difference to me."

"No, no, I like your bed. Even if it is too soft." Mariko smiled.

"Wow," Kim said glancing around. "Everything in here seems so strange ..."

"Huh?"

"Well, I don't know how to explain ... it's almost too clean and tidy. It's almost as if-that's it! It reminds me of my Nana's living room! We were never allowed to go in there; it was like a museum."

"Your N-nana? Oh, Panderoo!" Mariko exclaimed.

"Oh, that's right! Where is he?" Kim stood up on the bed and checked the cubbies above her headboard. She spotted him on the second shelf all the way to the right. Unlike the other stuffed animals, he didn't look new. Although he had been dusted, he looked to be the only one that hadn't been washed. On impulse, she reached for him, only to discover that he wouldn't budge.

"Darn! Sweetie, do you think you could reach him?"

Even standing on Kim's stacked pillows on her tiptoes, Mariko couldn't reach him. Then Kim realized she could simply lift Mariko up so she could reach the stuffed animal, but before she could implement this plan, James Possible's voice boomed up through the the trap door.

"Anyone up here?"

"Just me, Mariko!" the little girl called.

Kim's dad stuck his head through the opening. "Welllll, there you are! Is everything okay? What are you trying to reach?"

"Panderoo," Mariko explained. "I'm too little, and Rufina can't get him down."

"Rufina?" James Possible asked as he climbed up into the loft. "Oh yes! Your father mentioned your friend might come visit. I thought I heard you talking to someone. Where is she?" He looked around the room good-naturedly.

Mariko pointed to where Kim was standing on the far end of the bed.

"Hi, Rufina!"

"Hello, daddy," Kim answered softly.

James got Pandaroo down for Mariko. "There you go, Honey." Then he paused. "Are you okay?"

Mariko nodded without looking up at him.

"Are you sure?" his concerned voice asked.

She looked up, smiled and nodded.

"As long as your sure," he smiled back. Tentatively, he made his way back to the loft's entrance. Just before he disappeared, he let Mariko know that her dad would be back soon and that if she should need anything to just let him know.

"Thank you, Dr. Possible," Mariko managed with a small wave.

After she was sure her father was out of earshot, Kim asked Mariko why she was so sad. She knew the little girl had been holding back tears ever since her father had given her Pandaroo.

"You miss your daddy." Mariko said as tears trickled from her eyes.

"Yes," Kim said embracing her. "Yes, I do."

"I'm so sorry, Rufina," the little girl sobbed.

"Sorry, for what sweetie," Kim asked, patting Mariko's back.

Mariko edged back and looked Kim in the eyes. "I'm sorry you're dead."

Kim smiled back tears of her own and lost herself, for a moment, in the girl's deep cocoa eyes. "I'm sorry about that, too. Thank you."

"Rufina?" the girl's eyes flashed with sudden urgency.

"Yes?"

"How did you die?"

Kim looked straight into Ron's daughter's bottomless eyes and said, "A very bad man named Monkey Fist killed me."

"W-why did he do that?" the horrified girl asked.

Kim shrugged. "I don't know, sweetie. That's what bad people do sometimes."

Kim rocked Ron's daughter against her shoulder for several long minutes. And she kept on rocking, even after Kim knew she was asleep.

Kim never felt any guilt or any pang of remorse for breaking her promise to Mariko that night. She also never felt any regret for the dozen or so lies she told later to back up that first one.

If Kim Possible had anything to do with it, Ron's daughter would never learn that her mother was a killer.

Ever.

VIII.

Kim could just make out the clatter of china plates and glasses as they were laid out on the dining room table. Ron, or perhaps her mother, would be coming soon to wake the little girl for dinner.

Ann had been up to the loft forty-five minutes earlier to check on Mariko, but, otherwise, Kim had been completely alone with the sleeping child.

Not long after her mother had left, Mariko had woken up. She seemed disconcerted, perhaps a little worried about where she was. Hoping not to wake her up completely, Kim had not spoken a word; instead, she had pointed to Pandaroo, lying on the bed not a foot away. Mariko had quickly snatched up the Cuddlebuddie and then sleepily climbed into Kim's surprised, but welcoming, lap.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Kim rocked the sleeping child to and fro, in rhythm with the girl's gentle breathing. As she looked through her bedroom window, Kim caught sight of an edge of the moon slipping into her frame. It was no where near as brilliant as it had been on Yamanouchi. With the light pollution of the surrounding tri-city area, it looked dulled, almost as if it were fading away.

Regardless, it made her smile.

So far, Kim's afterlife had not been much fun. There had been times, especially in the beginning, when she believed that anything, even non-existence, would have been preferable. She did not think that way anymore.

As she listened to the soft downstairs sounds, that could only make her nostalgic for her own childhood, and hugged her best friend's sleeping daughter to her breast, Kim Possible earnestly spoke to God the only words that made any sense to her at that moment.

"Thank you … thank you … thank you …"

* * *

To be continued ...

A/N: The sunrise/sword imagery is owed to Bruce Cockburn and the first stanza of his beautiful song "Pacing the Cage."


	7. Taharah

There are things that must be looked at indirectly because they would blind you if you looked them in the face, like the fire of the sun. - Sir Salman Rushdie

_Officer Hobble drove Ann to the hospital. He had been very understanding and accommodating. He even said that he understood. They both knew he was lying. Nice, but lying all the same._

_As she stepped out of his idling patrol car and turned toward the front entrance, he asked if she wanted him to wait for her. That is, so he could drive her home. After she was done._

_In reply, she mumbled something that he couldn't hear and that she wouldn't remember having said._

_She walked through the revolving glass door and made her way through the lobby. She bent her face to the floor, fixedly tracing the pattern in the linoleum tiles. There were not many people at the hospital, she noted. Perhaps not many people knew yet._

_She went to the main elevators and, with automatic motion, pressed the down button. The door opened to an empty car, and she stepped inside. She looked over the console and quickly located the button for the bottom floor. The door closed. And then opened again. And then closed. Finally, she pressed the button for the last floor, and the car began to move._

_Two floors before reaching the basement, the car stopped and an orderly with an empty gurney got on. Ann kept her eyes to the floor. Neither spoke. The door opened on the next floor, and the orderly exited the car. Inexplicably, he didn't take the gurney. The sheet on its mattress was un-tucked at a corner. Ann stared at that corner until the car reached its final destination. The door opened and she stepped out._

_She had been to this floor only once. When she interviewed with the hospital some twenty years earlier. She remembered being shown a suitably dim and gloomy corridor on a brief tour of the facilities. She was surprised and somewhat annoyed to discover that the floor had been recently remodeled and was brightly lit. Too brightly. The glare on the new tiles from the humming fluorescent lights irritated her eyes slightly._

_Just as Ann was beginning to wonder where she should go, a nurse appeared at her elbow. She smiled at Ann with restrained pleasantness and directed in a hushed tone, "This way, Dr. Possible."_

_Without speaking and with their eyes at the floor, the two walked to the end of the hallway. Two doctors were standing on either side of a heavy, gray door. The doctor on the left kept his eyes down and did not speak. The doctor on the right, however, addressed Ann in a rough-sounding voice. The suddenness with which he shattered the overbearing silence of the hallway drew her gaze to his face. Fortunately, the glare from the fluorescents upon his eyeglasses prevented any true eye contact._

_She didn't catch most of what he said, but his last words were "...time you need." She nodded absently in the general direction of his words. Then, without pausing to take a breath, she pushed through the door, stepped inside, and let the room swallow her._

_When the door clicked closed behind her, Ann's stoic resolve faltered. The silence in the room, even the pressure in the air, seemed overwhelming. She shut her eyes for almost a minute. In the darkness, she felt as if she were falling._

_At that moment, Ann Possible realized how truly alone every person was. Trapped inside themselves. All the noise and chatter of friends, loved ones, colleagues, adversaries, televisions, radios, car horns, all served to distract a person from hearing the beating of their hearts in their heads. The limited beats. Each heartbeat taking a person one step closer to the inevitable moment when there would be no more left. Taking them closer to … to where her baby was right now._

_At the point when she almost lost her balance and fell, Ann's eyes sprung open._

_There, on a table in the center of a small, clean well-lit room under a thick, white sheet lay her daughter._

_When she had spoken to Dr. Kuzmin on the phone, he had assured her that the autopsy would be delayed until … well … for as much time as she needed. He told her that they would not even prep Kim for the operation. In fact, Kim would still be wearing the clothes she was found in … the clothes she left the house in that morning. Ann wondered vaguely if Kuzmin had been the doctor who had refused to look at her in the hallway._

_She walked around the table three times. Counter-clockwise the first time, clockwise the next two. Finally, she reached out and touched the table itself. Rigidly cold. She took a few shallow breaths. Why did she feel so numb? No, that wasn't right; she didn't feel numb. Why did she feel nothing?_

_Her little girl was lying lifeless beneath this sheet, and she only felt apprehension. Perhaps, she was in shock. In shock from Officer Hobble's announcement in the living room an hour or so ago, in shock from what she would see in a few moments ..._

_In Ann's mind, Kim was lying peacefully reposed underneath the cloth. Like Sleeping Beauty. No, like Snow White in her glass coffin. However, no one's kiss-not even Ron's, could nudge her daughter from her deep, bottomless sleep._

_Gingerly, anxiously, finally, Ann pulled back the sheet as if she were turning down the comforter on Kim's bed. And she looked._

_As she collapsed to the floor, the crown of Ann's head smacked the table's edge. The sharp pains at the points of her knees and the throbbing in her ears did nothing to distract her from her darkening vision. Her sight was not merely being blurred by the tears that were flowing like rain down her cheeks; she literally could not see anything._

_The void that confronted Ann Possible was infinite. All the remembered moments-happy, sad, or otherwise, that made up her life would not have been enough to fill it._

_Kim's eyes had been open._

_It was unthinkable that Officer Hobble or any of the other authorities or members of the medical team had neglected to close them. They must have sprung open again at some point after Kim had been covered with the sheet. Regardless, her eyes were open-dilated, blank, beginning to film over and staring back at her mother from the other side of that final heartbeat._

_This wasn't how it was supposed to be! Kim deserved a proper goodbye! A kiss on the forehead or a gentle squeeze of her wrist. On the ride over, Ann had even thought of cradling her daughter in her arms if only for a few moments._

_Ann clambered clumsily to her knees. Trying to catch her breath between sobs, she angrily brought her wrist down against the edge of the table. "Dammit!" she yelled._

_She did it again. "Dammit!"_

_And again and again. Each time, she followed the blow with an echoing curse._

_After a few moments, her voice became scratchy. Then it became hoarse. Then it stopped altogether, and she could only mouth the word. Over and over again._

_Her wrist grew numb. After a while the numbness spread up to her elbow. In the end, Ann ceased bringing her wrist down because her shoulder was just too tired to lift her arm again._

_Not many minutes after she ceased doing anything except panting for breath and hanging onto the edge of the table, Ann registered an off-white blur far into the distance of the black emptiness that surrounded her. The blur got closer or increased in size, changed color, became more distinct. In a few moments, her vision, slightly marred by tears, returned._

_Ann staggered to her feet. During her fit, she had pulled the sheet almost clear of Kim and onto the floor. Wiping her eyes with her left sleeve, Ann examined her battered right wrist. It was visibly swollen. When she felt it with her left hand, she couldn't sense the touch of her fingertips. It needed attention. She took the sheet, dirty now that it had touched the floor, and stuffed it in a garbage can beneath the room's sink._

_She took a replacement sheet from the counter and draped it over her daughter's legs. She then drew it level with Kim's shoulders. Keeping her eyes fixed upon the speckled pattern of the floor's tiles, Ann walked to the head of the table and carefully, delicately felt for her daughter's eyelids. She pressed them closed._

_And then, without saying a word, Ann Possible brought the sheet over Kim's head. Although she knew it wasn't remotely accurate nor true, Ann told herself that it was almost as if she was tucking Kim into bed for a well-deserved rest. Before she could let the desperate absurdity of this thought gain any ground, Ann hurried out of the room._

_She didn't stop to speak to the doctors or the nurse who were waiting just outside in the hallway. She needed to have her arm seen in the ER as soon as she could._

_However, she had to walk up and down the same corridor three times before she located the elevator. And then she forgot about going to the ER. It was only after she had been frantically searching for her van in the parking lot for five irritating minutes that she recalled how she had got there and what she still needed to do._

* * *

To be continued ...


	8. Seven

I.

"How does Ann seem to you?" James asked in a voice that desperately tried to sound nonchalant.

The tone didn't work; both Kim and Ron started at the question.

Curled in the same corner of the couch she had occupied a few hours earlier, Kim felt the hair on the base of her neck prickle and a queasy sensation invade her stomach.

_Please no. What now?_

James' ominous question was all the more jarring because dinner had been particularly good. Standing in the archway between the kitchen and living room, Kim had been able to see and hear everything. Everyone-Ron, his mother, Mariko and her parents, had been in very good spirits. She had found the fact that Mariko's appetite mirrored her father's especially amusing.

Watching Ron, however, had brought her the most delight. There had been a satisfied glow about Ron as he had carved the chicken he had roasted. And his good mood had only improved as everyone expressed how delicious everything was.

" _You_ cooked _this_ daddy?" Mariko had said between mouthfuls, "Wow!"

The smile this comment brought to Ron's face had made Kim's cheeks feel flush. As he had proudly stood up to carve his daughter a second helping, Kim had thought, _Oh Ron, this could be your life. It really could. Why won't you let it?_

Now she was steeling herself for a bombshell she felt sure her father was preparing to drop. A bombshell that could easily shatter whatever sense of peace and security the last pleasant hour had instilled in her.

"Well," Ron began, "she seems … fine. Normal, I guess."

"Yes," James assented in a faraway voice. "She does." He leaned back into the couch with an uneasy smile. "She does."

Mariko burst in from the kitchen, clapping her hands over her head. "Dr. Possible and Bubbe said I can spend the night here!"

"They did?" Ron said in a surprised tone as his daughter leaped into his lap.

Almost as if they had anticipated his reaction, both Ron and Kim's mother suddenly appeared in the archway.

"It's fine, Ron," Barbara Jo smiled with a nod.

"It is getting late," Ann said, "and Mariko said she wanted to watch the movie again. By the time it's over, it'll be after nine."

"Yeah," Ron admitted, "I guess."

Sensing something wrong, Ann quickly said, "I told her she could, Ron. Watch the movie, I mean. I'm sorry-I really should have asked you first."

"No, no," Ron smiled, "that's fine. It's just …well." He looked at his little girl, "Are you okay sleeping here, Honey, without me?"

"Ronald," Barbara Jo said rolling her eyes, " _you_ can sleep over, too."

"Really?" Ron answered in a tone that everyone in the room, with the exception of Mariko, found very amusing. "I-I mean," he continued in a less-amped manner, "where will we sleep?"

"You can sleep with me, daddy," Mariko said happily, looking at Kim, "in your friend's room."

Ron flashed Ann a worried look that she quickly silenced.

"That would be perfect, Ron. In fact, your night light is still up there." She smiled as Barbara Jo and James gently laughed.

"Does it still work?" Ron asked, slightly astonished.

"Sure does," Ann smiled.

"What's a ... night light, daddy?" Mariko asked with a frown. As the three older people reacted with more pleasant laughter and her father withdrew into an embarrassed silence, she looked to Kim for an answer.

"You'll see," Kim said. "And I'll tell you a story about how it first got in my room, too." She smiled warmly. Although she reflected the surface contentment in the room, she could not shake the apprehension she read in her father's eyes. Something major was up, something that had to do with her mother.

"Well, your father will be able to explain all that to you, dear," Barabra Jo smiled. "Makes me wish I hadn't packed the one from our house away," she continued to Ron, "then she'd already know."

"Yeah," Ron smiled easily if absently.

"Well, I should probably get going," Ron's mom said in an apologetic tone to Ann. "Thanks for having me over."

"You're not staying, Bubbe?" Mariko asked in a concerned voice. "You and daddy can sleep in the bed; I'll sleep on the floor. I don't mind!"

"Thanks," her grandmother smiled sweetly, "but who would take care of Rufus?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Yes, how is the little guy doing?" Ann asked.

"Much, much better," Ron smiled. "He actually spent some time out of the tube this morning, didn't he, Honey?"

"Uh huh," Mariko beamed, "he jumped into my lap, and I got to feed him some cheese for breakfast."

"That's very good," Barbara Jo said to Ann and James, "he hasn't wanted any cheese for weeks. Very good news."

 _Poor Rufus._ Kim had no idea how long naked mole rats were supposed to live, but Ron had, according to her calculations, gotten him at Smartymart some thirteen years ago. Like everyone else, her smallest friend was getting older. _I sure hope I get to see him._ Kim missed Rufus much more than she dreaded seeing him in a poor state of health. Besides, she might not have many chances left if he was getting really old. _Don't want to think like that._ Also, a small part of her held out the dim hope that, like Mariko, he might be able to see and to hear her.

After everyone had seen Barbara Jo off at the door, Ann leaned next to Mariko's ear and asked if she was too tired to watch the movie again.

"Nuh-uh," Mariko cried.

"Okay," Ann nodded, "how about you, Ron?"

"Actually," James interrupted, "Ron and I have some things to talk over." Placing a hand on Ron's shoulder, he explained, "Shouldn't take too long."

"Are you coming to watch the movie too, Rufina?" Mariko asked Kim.

"Actually, sweetie," Kim said hesitantly, "is it okay if I visit with my daddy and your daddy for a while?"

"Okay," Mariko said a little confused. "But how?"

"How what, sweetie?" Ann asked.

"Oh, Dr. Possible, I'm sorry. I was talking to Rufina."

Ann smiled knowingly.

"I just wanted to hear what they had to say, sweetie," Kim explained. "I'll be right up in a few minutes," she said reassuringly.

"Okay," the little girl nodded and then turned back to Kim's mother. As they crossed the foyer, Mariko told Ann that Rufina would be coming up to watch the movie soon, but that she had something to do first.

"Oh good," Ann said as she took the little girl's hand, "I've heard a lot about her. I'd really like to meet her."

Kim hardly had time to reflect on the melancholic irony of her mother's last statement. She was too focused on shadowing her father and her best friend as they entered the study. Wincing against the double keening, she just managed to squeeze into the darkened room before her father closed the door. And locked it.

II.

"Have a seat, Ron," James said as he sat down behind his desk.

Kim couldn't help noticing how ferociously messy her father's study was. He had never been a neat freak, but it was really rather incredible how cluttered everything was—there wasn't a clear surface _anywhere_. Ron actually had to remove a stack of papers from his chair before he could sit down. Ron looked about futilely for a place to put them. Finally, he just sat down with them in his lap.

"You can put those anywhere, Ron," James said absently.

"Well," Ron said looking around the room, "I really can't find anywhere, MrDr-I mean, James."

"Please, Ron," James said with a little sadness in his voice, "you can call me MrDrP if you want."

"Thanks, James." Ron said automatically.

They both grinned thinly and fell silent.

"So," Ron asked finally, "what's up?"

Kim sighed; she had been on pins and needles and was relieved that the intended subject was finally being brought up.

"Well," James said looking at his hands, "have you been up to Kim's room yet?"

"No, I haven't. I really wasn't too amped to see it, you know, all packed up and empty."

"Oh no, Ron," James said, still looking at his hands, "it is exactly like you last saw it."

"Really? But I thought you guys were going to put all Kim's stuff in storage."

"Yeah, that was the plan initially." James sighed. "But when you left for Yamanouchi, Ann … started spending more and more time up there. At first, I thought she _was_ packing everything away, but she was actually … keeping it clean."

"Oh." Ron said in a tone that indicated that he didn't know what else to say.

"And then," James continued in a low voice, "there were those mornings when I found her wide awake sitting at the base of Kimmie's ladder."

He had uttered this confession so quietly that Ron wasn't sure he had heard Kim's father correctly. However, he didn't feel comfortable asking James to repeat himself.

Even a half a room away, Kim had been listening intently. She had felt the sting of every word.

"She still spends," James began wearily, in a slightly louder voice, "well … not a _great deal_ of time up there, but at least three hours a week—dusting, washing the windows, that kind of thing."

After another minute when all Kim could hear was the nervous beating of her heart, James finally said, "I asked you how Ann struck you this evening because she is not _normally_ like this. She is normally not … well … to be frank, she's not usually ... happy. In fact, she smiled more today than I've seen her smile in a long, long time. In years."

With every word her father spoke, it seemed to Kim as if the lights were dimming and as if it was getting a little colder in the room. She hugged her shoulders and sniffled.

Ron waited for James to continue. But he resolutely remained silent and continued to stare at his hands.

"Do you," Ron began hesitantly, "think Mariko and me are why she's so ... so normal today?"

James brightened and raised his eyes to meet his young friend's for what Kim realized was the first time since they had entered the room. Her father's eyes were shining.

"I believe so, Ronald," he smiled, "I really do. So I need to ask …"

"I really want to come back to Middleton, James, but I-" Ron began in a shaky voice.

"Oh, no, no, no, Ronald," James said, emphatically shaking his head, "don't for minute think I am trying to pressure you into coming back. If you're not ready, you're not ready."

Ron wiped his eyes.

"Actually, I need to ask you for some advice."

"Really? What about MrDrP?"

After acknowledging Ron's use of his nickname with a faint smile, James began, "Well, Ron, in many ways our family dynamic is unconventional. For instance, Ann's job pays a lot more than mine, but we are still old fashioned in other ways. Ann takes care of most of the domestic aspects, and I pay all the bills, taxes, and … the medical claims."

Ron nodded.

_Oh no, don't say Mom's sick!_

"Well, Ann has a pretty super medical plan with the hospital, and we rarely, if ever, receive medical bills. However, I do get the claim forms indicating that the insurance is covering whatever procedure was performed and, you know, that sort of thing."

"Okay."

"Well, I used to get a batch of forms every April concerning Ann. Her mother died really young of cervical cancer-it hit Ann pretty hard-she was an undergrad at the time. So she's been having an annual battery of tests for decades. And I always got those forms in April just like clockwork."

_Oh no. Please don't say it._

"Until, that is, the April after Kimmie died." James paused and looked down at his hands again although it was quite obvious that he wasn't seeing them. "I haven't received a single claim form for any of those tests in seven years, Ron."

"MrDrP," Ron said hurriedly, "is it possible, you know, that the insurance company changed its policies and no longer sends out those forms?"

"That's what I had hoped, too." James nodded. "In fact, the hospital _did_ change providers the second year after Kim died, so I assumed that's what had happened. But, that assumption ... didn't sit well with me."

"You called the company." Ron said flatly.

"I did." James slowly shook his head. "She hasn't been getting the tests, Ronald. She hasn't." He sighed, closed his eyes, and said as steadily as he could, "I asked her about it, and she said … that she _had taken them_."

Ron balanced the stack of papers in his lap with his right hand, and reached out with his left to steady the older man's hands which were trembling badly.

"She," James choked, "she's never lied to me before, Ronald."

Kim hugged her knees and rocked back and forth on the floor.

"I don't know what you can do to help, Ronald," James said wiping his eyes with his fingertips. "But if you could give me some idea, any at all …" his voice trailed off.

"Do Jim and Tim know?" Ron asked.

"No, Ron," James said. "Just you. Just you."

"Why?" Ron gently asked, genuinely confused. "Why just me?"

"Well, Ron," James said getting himself back under control, "you've known Ann as long as anyone …"

"Yeah," Ron smiled, "I guess I have known her longer than the tweebs even."

"Yes, you have," James smiled briefly. Then his eyes grew serious. "However, I wanted your advice, Ron, because I thought you might understand this better than anyone else. I've never personally known anyone who has suffered more tragedy in his life than you."

_It's all my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault._

Kim got to her feet and dazedly walked to the door. She knew she couldn't open it, but she had to get out of that room. She had to fix things. She had to somehow get her mother to start taking those tests again.

"Mariko," she whispered, "Mariko, please open the door …"

Simultaneously, Kim realized that Mariko couldn't possibly hear her whispers from her mother's room, especially not with a movie on; in addition, if she screamed, the little girl would be the only one who _would_ hear. Although she felt very self-conscious about it, Kim began yelling for Ron's daughter as loudly as she could.

After a few minutes, her voice started to get scratchy, so she quit. Besides, the entire sitch-screaming her head off just a few feet away from where Ron was comforting her father, was surreal and more than a little disturbing. Kim leaned her back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. She couldn't understand how things could have gotten so bad for her mother, for her parents. Her mother was one of the most rational and optimistic people she knew. And even though Kim _knew_ that she really wasn't at fault for her mother's apparently self-destructive behavior, no argument she came up with could explain away the overwhelming guilt she felt.

"Rufina!" Mariko whispered urgently through the door. "What's wrong?"

"I'm trapped in here," Kim whispered back, "could you let me out?"

"Okay," Mariko replied, "your mom stopped the movie. The dwarfs are still digging the diamonds." She rattled the doorknob.

"Oh, that's right," Kim said, "my dad locked the door! Could you ask your dad to unlock it?"

The sudden keening in her ears told Kim that either Ron or her father was already on his way. She jumped to the side just as Ron reached and unlocked the door.

"Hey," Ron managed happily as he opened the door, "what's going on, Honey? I thought you were watching _Snow White_."

"Rufina was trapped," Mariko explained. "I had to rescue her."

"Oh, okay," Ron said pleasantly as he opened the door wide and extended his right arm, "you may go watch the movie too, Rufina." Unfortunately, Ron was still blocking Kim's escape.

"Daddy," Mariko said patiently, "you're in Rufina's way."

"Oh, my bad," he said hopping free of the doorway.

Kim shot him a brief smile and raced into the foyer.

Just before Ron closed the door again, he saw his daughter walk to the Possibles' stairway and then lift her left arm in mid-air to take hold of her imaginary friend's invisible hand. He smiled and then sighed.

Despite James' confidence in him, Ron had no idea how he was going to help.

III.

"What's wrong, Rufina?" Mariko asked as they made it to the second floor.

Kim shook her head. "My daddy said some things that made me really sad, that's all."

Something in her friend's tone told Mariko not to ask what those things were. With her child's natural sense of intuition about such things, she knew that Kim might start crying if she did.

Kim gasped as they entered her parent's bedroom. The room was a complete mess. There were stacks of magazines and books on top of everything—the dresser, the television set, even the floor. There were actually pieces of laundry intermixed in some of the piles. She had never seen any room in the house ever looked so, so _wrecked_ , except maybe the tweebs'.

_No, not even the tweebs' room was ever this bad._

The only piece of furniture that was free of clutter was the bed, where Ann was patiently waiting for Mariko's return.

Mariko climbed up on the bed and Kim tentatively followed. Standing upon the mattress on her knees, Kim could see the silver roots of her mother's hair; practically an inch was showing. As she slowly made her way to the end of the bed nearest her mother and the television, the keening began. She sighed and plopped down cross-legged right where she was.

"Did you find Rufina?" Ann asked pleasantly.

"Yeah," Mariko answered quietly.

"Where is she?" Ann asked with a smile.

"Right there," Mariko said, pointing to Kim. "She's sad."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better, Rufina," Ann said in a concerned voice looking in Kim's direction.

Kim couldn't even look up. She stared at her lap and gave her mother a half-hearted wave. Once Ann turned her attention back to the movie, however, Kim couldn't _stop_ looking at her mother.

Her mother had always been so in control. During Kim's childhood, she had worked 50-60 hours a week at the hospital and still managed to somehow be, for the most part, a full time mom to her children. She always took everything in stride. Kim's "I can do anything" motto may have developed from her father's continued insistence that "anything was possible for a Possible;" however, she had most definitely inherited her "No big" attitude from her mother.

Just a glance at her parents' bedroom told Kim that her mother had not taken much in stride for a very long time. Again, as illogical, as wrong as she knew it was, Kim couldn't help feeling responsible. When she mentally compared the state of her loft with what she saw scattered in the room about her, her guilt only intensified.

Kim was so intent upon her mother that she failed to notice that Mariko was staring just as fixedly at her.

"Dr. Possible," Mariko said suddenly, "could you stop the movie?"

"Oh, sure, Honey, are you too tired to watch the rest of it?"

"No, I just need to talk to Rufina for a minute."

"Huh?" Kim was so despondent that she had only just caught the tail-end of Mariko and her mother's exchange.

Mariko took Kim's hand and led her off the bed.

As Ann Possible watched the little girl lead her invisible friend into the master bathroom and shut the door, she smiled, shook her head, and whispered, "Most definitely Ron's little girl."

After Mariko had closed the bathroom door, Kim dropped to her knees, so she could be at eye level with her. Still nonplussed as to why the little girl wanted to speak to her in private, Kim asked, "What's the matter, sweetie?"

Looking steadily at her much-older friend, Mariko asked, "Why are you sad?"

Kim's first impulse was to downplay her feelings and say something like she "would be all right in a few minutes." After all, Mariko had experienced plenty of misery herself in the past few weeks; she certainly did not need to be burdened with the Possible family's problems. However, that would have been a lie. She couldn't do that anymore.

"My mom," she began, looking at the floor, "she … she used to take these tests. These tests … so the doctors would know if she was getting sick or not."

"Yeah," Mariko said in worried voice.

"Yeah," Kim nodded, still not making eye contact. "And my daddy just said that she isn't taking the tests, and-" Kim briefly looked up into Mariko's eyes and immediately broke down into choking sobs.

_You so don't deserve having this unloaded on you!_

Kim fumbled for a tissue from the toilet roll for a few seconds before she remembered and began, instead, to wipe her eyes with the sleeves of her peasant shirt. She couldn't believe she was losing it in front of the little girl! "I'm so sorry, Mariko," Kim managed as she tried to regain control. Her eyes clear, Kim looked back at Mariko, and she … was gone.

IV.

When Kim stuck her head out of the open bathroom door, she saw Mariko walking on her knees across the bed toward her mother.

"Mariko?" she called as she entered the room. The little girl didn't answer Kim; she was already speaking to her mother.

"Dr. Possible?"

"Yes, Honey?" Ann asked pleasantly.

"I really like you."

"Thank you! I really like you, too." Ann smiled.

"And I want you to live a long, long, long time."

"O-okay." Ann's smile was both confused and bemused. "That's very sweet. Thank you."

"Will you?"

Kim could see her mother's posture stiffen ever so slightly.

"Well, I'll try, Honey." Ann said finally.

"Promise?"

Ann didn't say anything for a long minute. She was looking steadfastly into Mariko's eyes. The little girl's eyes did not waver from hers. Nor did they blink. They only pulsed back at Ann.

Finally, Ann blinked and turned her face from Mariko's gaze. She kept her eyes shut, dipped her head, and sighed deeply. She wiped both cheeks with the back of her hand and finally faced Mariko again. When she did, her blue eyes were bright. "Okay, Honey, I promise."

A note of uncertainty, for the first time, entered Mariko's voice. "Really?"

"Really," Ann nodded. She stood up, walked out of the room, and picked up the hall telephone.

At that moment, James and Ron were leaving the study. They hadn't made it five feet into the foyer before James hurriedly rushed Ron back into the room and shut the door.

"Wh-what's going on, MrDrP?"

James quickly slid into his chair, placed an admonishing finger to his lips, and very, _very_ carefully picked up the receiver of his desk phone. He stealthily covered the bottom half of the handset and put his ear to the receiver.

Upstairs, Kim and Mariko sat on the bed listening as Ann spoke.

"Kevin? Hi, Possible ... It _is_ a little late, I know, but I was wondering if I could pencil in something for tomorrow. Tomorrow morning if possible. No, no, nothing serious ... Checkup ... Yes, just routine ... Okay ... Sure. Ten o'clock would be fine. Great, then I'll see Dr. Ovian at ten then."

As James carefully replaced the receiver, Ron couldn't miss the flush of color in the older man's cheeks or the relief in his shining eyes. "She … she just scheduled to have the tests. Tomorrow," James sighed deeply and smiled.

"That's great, MrDrP," Ron said warmly. "Really great."

After a moment, Ron ventured in a slightly concerned voice, "Just … uh … how long … have you been doing that, James?"

"Hmm? Doing what?"

"That trick with the phone."

"Oh," James hesitated, " _that_?" He cleared his throat. "Well, I wouldn't really call it _a trick_ , Ronald." Finally, he said, "Not long. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering whether you were doing it back when," here Ron reflexively rubbed his neck, "when Kim and I were dating."

There was a long period of silence.

James smiled finally and said, "Ron, I feel like celebrating a little. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou." Kim whispered desperately, joyfully into Mariko's ear. She was hugging the little girl from behind as tightly as she could.

When Kim finally released her from the embrace, Mariko faced her and said with a sad smile, "I miss my mommy ... very much. I don't want you to miss yours."

Kim sniffled, bent down, and kissed her friend on the forehead.

When Ann returned to the room, she un-paused the DVD, and the three of them watched the movie until the end. _Snow White_ had never been one of Kim's favorite films, even when she had been Mariko's age. And she certainly did not remember it being _so good_. She was certain she had never seen the dwarfs' hand washing sequence before—she and Mariko giggled all the way through the scene. And when the queen/witch left her evil laboratory, Kim could not deny the slight, but distinct shiver that she felt when the hag maliciously kicked the mug from the skeleton's hand. And Kim actually found it difficult to watch Snow White's "funeral." She felt extremely self-conscious and embarrassed when tears formed in the corners of her eyes as the dwarfs lay flowers on the princess' coffin. However, Kim felt a little less so when she realized that Mariko and her mother were also crying.

Kim failed to notice, however, the concerned yet hopeful glances Mariko gave her when the hero awakened the little princess from her sleeping death with a kiss.

V.

Kim couldn't shake the nostalgic "sleepover" vibe she got as she climbed up her loft's ladder. The faint amber glow of the nightlight from the open hatch recalled the many nights she and Mariko's father stumbled through her storybooks before falling asleep. Although Kim had at first been somewhat annoyed by Ron's insistence on having a night light, she had to admit it definitely came in handy. Some of her best childhood memories were of reading those books to him late into the early evening until his snores let her know she could stop. Of course, she would continue reading for a few minutes just to make sure. She treasured even more the handful of nights when he read to her ... at least until his snores let her know that he had stopped.

Once in her room, Kim wandered to the window and scanned the night sky for a trace of the moon she had seen earlier. A ring of swiftly moving clouds cluttered the horizon. As Kim's eyes scanned the front lawn and drive, she realized that they had received a slight dusting. The roof and windows of her mother's mini van were shrouded in new snow.

Behind her, the groaning of the ladder told her that her solitude would soon be over. This was fine with Kim. Too much solitude just bred unpleasant thoughts.

"Sweetie?" Kim called as she turned from the window. She had left Mariko with her mother a few minutes earlier in the kitchen, dressed in her white "sleeping" kimono and downing her second glass of "goodnight milk."

But it was Ron. His face was illuminated for only a second by the night light; once he was standing in the room, his face was clouded in shadow. He walked hesitantly across the floor, every step colored by trepidation. None of his nervous movements bespoke those of a ninja. Finally, he reached the light switch on the far wall; yet, he didn't switch it on. Instead, he stood there for a minute and then walked slowly to the side of the bed opposite Kim and sat down on its edge.

Kim stood motionless for a while. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts—no clear thread linking any of them. Finally, she moved forward. She edged around the bed and could see that Ron was holding something-a dark object, hidden, as his face was. Approaching closer only caused the keening to begin. She backed off and sat on the carpet at the bed's foot.

Ron remained completely still, he didn't make a sound, but Kim could tell that he was in misery.

_Please, Ron. Don't linger on me. Please don't._

"Rufina! Rufina!"

His daughter's cries quickly sprung Ron into action. He stood up and quickly tossed the object across the mattress. It bounced twice and rolled onto the floor.

"Up here, sweetie," Kim called down to Mariko. "Your daddy's up here, too."

As the groaning of the steps heralded his daughter's approach, Ron turned down the covers on the bed.

Kim was just about to check the other side of the bed for the object Ron had been holding when he suddenly flipped on the lamp by her pillows, momentarily blinding her.

Shielding her eyes from the sudden burst of light, Mariko called "Hi daddy!" as she clambered into the loft.

"Hello, punky monkey!" Ron called in a cheerful-sounding voice.

"Hiya, funky monkey!" Mariko, not missing a beat, chirped back.

Kim giggled. "When did you start calling him _that_?"

"Oh," Mariko smiled. "He asked me to yesterday."

"Honey?" Ron asked over his shoulder; he was still prepping Kim's sheets for bed.

"Oh, I'm talking to Rufina, daddy." Mariko then explained to Kim, "Bubbe thought the name was really silly."

"Oh yeah," Ron said turning to his daughter, "so Rufina is up here, is she?"

"Uh huh," Mariko smiled, pointing to where Kim was sitting at the base edge of the bed.

"Hello, Rufina," Ron smiled with an absent wave in Kim's direction.

"Hi, funky monkey," Kim said with a smile and a slight roll of her eyes that instantly made Mariko laugh.

"Okay, okay," Ron said in a slightly stern voice, "we need to get you to bed, young lady. It is ferociously late."

"Are you going to sleep too, daddy?" Mariko asked as she walked, with wavering balanced steps, on Kim's mattress.

"In a little while, maybe," Ron answered wearily as he sat back on the bed's edge.

Ignoring her father's tone, Mariko wrapped her arms suddenly about his neck and, giggling, began pulling him back on the bed.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Ron began testily. Then as their backs touched the mattress, his tone changed quite abruptly. "Whoah!" He blinked a few times and then sighed a very deep, peaceful sigh. "I had forgotten how soft Kim's bed is. Oh man, we are going to be so hurting when we get back home, little girl."

Kim looked away and stared at the floor. She had known Ron wasn't going to stay in Middleton; his conversation with her father that afternoon had put that issue to rest. Still, it greatly depressed her to hear him refer to that awful school as being home to Mariko and himself.

"You've slept in this bed before?" Mariko asked.

"Oh yeah," Ron smiled. "When I was your age and a little older." Ron's eyes got a faraway look, and his smile faded. "All the time."

Gently touching Mariko's shoulder, Kim urged, "Ask your father to read you a story."

"A story?" Mariko's eyes brightened. "Will you read me a story, daddy?"

"Uh, sure," Ron nodded. "I guess I could."

"Yay!" Mariko clapped.

"Some of my favorite stories are right there," Kim said, directing Mariko toward the far end of the cubby just behind her father's head. Although Kim's brothers had inherited (and then destroyed) most of her beginning reader books, they had steered clear of any that were "too girly."

Ron gently steadied his daughter as she stood on his pillow and searched through Kim's book collection. She pulled each book out by its spine just far enough so that she could turn her head and see what was on the cover. She would then carefully push the book back in and proceed to the next book.

The partial glimpses that Kim caught of each cover ignited small bursts of memories in her mind. She had forgotten how many of these books she had read to Ron.

_That's right. Ron never minded the "girly" stories. He always let me choose the book._

Her pleasant reverie was roughly shoved aside when Kim saw which storybook Mariko had settled upon. With effort, she suppressed an audible groan.

"Hey!" Ron groused, "Didn't you already _watch_ this story twice today?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded happily.

Kim was about to suggest that Mariko choose something else. Not only had the little girl watched _Snow White_ twice but that storybook hadn't been a particular favorite of Ron's or hers. However, the look in the little girl's eyes stopped that notion cold.

_Doy, Possible! It's not about you._

Ironically, when Kim looked again into Mariko's eyes, something about them and about the little girl's smile suggested that she had picked the story for Kim's benefit.

Ron thumbed through the book as his daughter got herself settled beneath Kim's covers. "Man, this thing is long! Are you sure you really want to hear this story?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko smiled as she snuggled next to her father's pillow.

"Okay." Ron made a face, kissed his daughter quickly on the forehead, and began to read.

Kim reflected that Ron's reading style had most definitely developed since the last time he read a book in this bed. He was very animated, giving each character his or her own voice, pausing dramatically, and even making a chime noise when he would turn the page. All of this Mariko found endlessly hilarious.

So did Kim.

"Why are you making that noise, daddy?" Mariko asked when they reached page five.

"What noise?"

"When you turn the pages …"

"Oh, _that's_ the noise to let you know it's time to turn the page." Ron explained.

"But you _are_ turning the pages, daddy."

"Uh," Ron floundered a little. "It's a daddy thing, trust me."

"Okay," Mariko said, shooting a dubious look to Kim, who was trying very hard not to laugh.

Suddenly, it occurred to Kim that Ron's reading style really _hadn't_ changed, not that much. The few times he had read aloud to her when they were kids, he had been entertaining, too. Occasionally, he would start to tell his own story-his own interpretation of what was happening in the pictures, rather than the story told by the words printed beneath the pictures. At the time, she had thought he was just being weird or annoying. But he never failed to make her laugh, too. Kim realized now that had been his goal all along. Ron didn't have the faith in his reading abilities to make her happy, so he had tried to make her laugh. To make her happy in a different way.

In spite of Ron's storytelling prowess, his daughter let a yawn escape as the dwarves were making it home from the mine. Before the queen turned into the witch, she was snoring. However, Ron kept reading, if a little more quietly and a touch less enthusiastically. He stopped just before Snow White bit into the apple.

He watched his daughter sleep for a moment or two. And Kim watched him, watched them both.

Finally, Ron shut the book, balanced it carefully on the others in the cubby, and flipped off Kim's lamp. Lying on top of the sheets, still in his clothes and shoes, Ron Stoppable fell asleep beside his daughter on his best friend's bed.

Gingerly, Kim lied beside Mariko's sleeping form, feeling the pleasant warmth emanating from her body. For a long time, Kim floated in the inner darkness of her closed eyelids, listening peacefully to Ron and Mariko trading snores back and forth through the night.

VI.

Kim opened her eyes to pitch darkness. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the night. It was very late. The hall light had been turned off because she couldn't see its glow coming from the hatch opening. She shook her head.

_Still, no "sleepy bugs."_

She felt mildly restless. Although she would have liked nothing better than to join Mariko and Ron in a deep peaceful sleep, the simple fact was that she couldn't sleep anymore. Night, Kim decided as she slowly and carefully eased out of bed, was the worst time in her "afterlife." She could almost feel the milliseconds of eternity clicking monotonously past. However, the length of the night wasn't the problem, not really. No, the worst part was that she was totally alone.

As Kim walked toward the hatch, her foot touched something at the edge of the bed that nearly tripped her.

Like everything else physical in the world, the object had no give for her.

_Wait … is that … what Ron was holding?_

She got down on her knees and checked the shadows at the bed's edge. As her eyes adjusted to the deeper darkness that lied beneath, she made out two very familiar plastic eyes.

_Oh, Ron. Let me go, Honey, let me go._

She stayed hunched over on the carpet, looking past Pandaroo into the further reaches of blackness under the bed-patches of darkness to which her eyes stubbornly refused to adjust. She didn't cry. But the sadness didn't leave her, either. Even after she got up a few minutes later.

As she stepped down into the darkness of the hatch, another irrational wave of guilt engulfed Kim. Although she couldn't help the fact that she had been murdered, the loss she had read in Ron's eyes, on her father's thin frame, and behind her mother's smiles weighed upon her heavily. It occurred to her that she didn't know where she was going. Most of the doors, and certainly the doors that led outside, would be closed. Besides, she did not want to go back to her parent's room or into that awful study.

The keening began as she reached the third rung from the ladder's bottom. Although it came on low and gradual, Kim was still badly shaken by it. Flustered, she scanned the darkened hallway to see who was coming. No one was. In either direction.

Then she discerned, floating a few feet below her in the ebbing darkness on her right, a pair of eyes. Her mother's.

Kim jumped off the ladder to the floor. Staying just outside the "keening perimeter," she walked around her mother and kneeled down next to her as close as she could.

Wearing her robe, Ann Possible was sitting with a mug of coffee in her right hand and looking expectantly at the entrance to Kim's loft. The words her father had faintly uttered a few hours earlier in the study stung Kim once more.

Kim felt compelled to speak. To offer some kind of comfort. To ramble as she had to Ron that first night back at Yamanouchi.

Yet … another part of her, a stronger part of her, just wanted to sit down next to her mom.

As Kim did so and then edged a little closer, she realized that her mother was … smiling.

Ann took a short sip from her mug and then placed it down on the carpet.

Kim leaned her head against the wall and watched her mother contentedly listen to the snores coming from the room above.

"Ann? Honey?" a sleepy voice asked from above them. Kim's father was suddenly standing on the other side of the ladder.

"Yes, James," Ann asked, not taking her eyes from the hatch.

"Come to bed … please," James Possible said. He sounded exceptionally sad.

"It's okay, James," Ann replied. "Really."

Although she couldn't make out her father's face, Kim could read the concern and doubt in his posture and breathing.

"It's different this time," Ann explained. "There's somebody up there." She reached out and took up his shadowed hand in hers.

Kim felt the tension fade from her father's shadow.

Finally, he said, "Okay … just don't stay up all night." And then he was gone.

Kim and Ann sat listening to Ron and Mariko's snores. Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes later, Kim could just make out the soft sound of her father's snoring coming from the room down the hall. She wasn't sure if her mother could also hear her father, but she suspected she did. His faint snores came in just as Mariko's ended but before Ron's could begin. As the night deepened, the thought struck Kim that the three of them were somehow coordinating their snores to fall in just that way.

Then a few hours later, but still a good while before the dawn, Ann stood up and disappeared into the master bedroom's darkened doorway. A few minutes later, her gentle snores joined in with the others'.

And Kim was alone, but, as she listened to the chorus of snores tick away the night, she didn't feel so.

* * *

_To be continued ..._


	9. Eight

I.

If Kim concentrated hard enough, she could almost fool herself into believing that she was asleep. And dreaming. The gentle play of the sunlight upon her closed eyelids and the warm breath of the little girl snuggled against her body intermingled with each other and complemented the half-formed images that were ebbing in and out of Kim's consciousness.

The dream she was having, or imagined she was having, was set against a soothing field of red the morning sun had created as it beat against the flesh of her eyelids. She was in the same room and in the same bed. She was sharing the bed with the same two people. The same child laid on her chest, and the same boy, no, man, snored on the opposite side of the mattress. There were only two differences between Kim's "dream" and her reality. One, in the dream Kim was truly asleep and, two, the fingers of her right hand were intertwined with the fingers of Ron's left.

The visualization of this last detail broke the spell and ended Kim's dream of sleep.

She opened her eyes and shook her head sadly.

_What is wrong with you, Possible?_

Just hours ago she had urged Ron to let her memory go, yet here she was clinging to the same impossibility.

_You'll never touch Ron again. Get that straight._

Although nothing was certain in what Kim was beginning to think of more and more as her "second life," one fact seemed firm and solid. With the blessed exception of Mariko, she could never interact with anyone. Not _anyone_. Let alone someone she had loved in her first life. Not Ron, not her family, no one. That was the end of it. _That_ was the sitch. It was _done_.

II.

_It feels like a Saturday._

During the few hours that followed her "dream," Kim watched the morning sun gradually fill her loft. As she watched the dust shift in the ever-changing light beams, Kim's mood skimmed from contentment to melancholy and back again. Her room held so many memories. Sleeping late with Ron on Saturday mornings when they were toddlers was a very potent one. Especially since Ron didn't seem, at least while he was sleeping, to have changed much since he was five. As the sun reached his face, Ron swiftly, instinctively, and gracelessly covered his face with the pillow that had been beneath his head. Incredibly, his snores seemed to get louder-almost as if the pillow was amplifying rather then muffling them.

_Poor Ron. Enjoy it while you can._

She knew there was no way that he was allowed to sleep this late while at Yamanouchi. Perhaps it was the softness of her bed that was allowing him to "regress" from his normal Spartan regimen.

Conversely, his daughter had initially woken up the second the daylight crossed her small form. Mariko blinked, yawned, wiped at the small trickle of drool on her chin and smiled up at Kim. After a few seconds, however, her smile dulled, her almond eyes drooped, and she swiftly collapsed against Kim's chest with a mammoth snore.

Suppressing a smile, Kim had to agree with Ron's prediction from the night before—they would all be seriously hurting once they got back to Japan. After listening to the relaxing din of Mariko's snores, a distressing, yet inevitable, thought hit her.

_Will I be returning to Japan? To "home," too?_

There was no reason to think she wouldn't. But, then again, there was no reason to think she would, either. The unpredictability of her "afterlife" was maddening. She had just enjoyed-and, yes, "enjoyed" was the word she would choose, her first complete, unbroken night. Yet, that didn't give her any solace; it didn't speak of a new, more consistent phase in her "second life." Rather, it was only another example of its capricious nature. The difference was that this time things worked out in her favor. For all she knew, she could vanish in the next second and reappear weeks, months, even years later. Maybe … maybe never.

_Dammit! Why can't I stop thinking like this? Just enjoy the here and now!_

Kim's agitation caused her to shift her position slightly. Mariko sleepily protested the disturbance with a groan. The groan, in turn, drew Kim's attention back to the child who was curling into the hollow of her left arm. Sunlight streaked the ebony hair and highlighted the sienna freckles of Ron's daughter. And Kim was lost-present in the moment. She sighed, brushed a ringlet of hair behind Mariko's large yet delicate right ear, and let her mind wade through a pool of pleasant memories.

Her immediate memory was of five-year-old Ron playing cards on this same bed. Kim had been trying to teach him Old Maid, but he kept getting confused or ... just acting weird. He would either say "Gin!" whenever he got a match or start giggling at the pictures on the cards in his hand. And then would begin _showing them face-up to her_. In exasperation, she told him the game was just like "Go Fish" except with people. _That_ worked ... well, kinda. Although he got the fundamentals of the game down, he started saying "Go Fish" whenever it was her turn to pick from his hand. And then there would be the long conferences he would have with "Rufus" before selecting which cards to take from her deck.

What five-year-old Kim found most annoying was that Ron's discussions with his imaginary friend actually worked! He won just as often as she did. In fact, for an eerie thirty-minute period when Ron won four consecutive games, Kim had actually begun to believe that "Rufus" was real and was looking at her cards. The spell of this spooky half hour was finally broken when Kim simultaneously remembered that not even Ron believed "Rufus" was real (hence, why he always introduced his friend as "my imaginary friend, Rufus") and beat Ron on the fifth hand.

_Rufus._

Kim smiled at the memory of what the real Rufus had done to her room when the Stoppables had vacationed in France during high school. Ron had left Rufus in her care, and the naked mole rate had transformed the loft into a veritable hive of plastic tubes and running paths. How he had actually accomplished setting up the maze had been a mystery Kim hadn't concerned herself with at the time. Rather, she had been much more focused on how she was going to reach her closet or even get to her bed.

As Kim was recalling that her solution for this particular sitch had been to live out of a laundry basket and to "camp out" on the living room couch, she heard the faint ring of her parents' front door. Although she didn't sit up or move for fear of unsettling Mariko again, Kim did try to focus on the snatches on conversation she could catch between the father and daughter's "two-part harmony." Her mother had answered the door and seemed to be speaking with ... Ron's mother. Then she caught Rufus' name. Before Kim could even begin to worry that Barbara Jo had come as the bearer of tragic news, she heard both women exclaim in surprise.

"My, he _is_ doing better!" Ann said.

"Wow!" Barbara Jo, equally shocked, said, "Look at him _go_!"

Almost immediately, Kim discerned a rapid thumping noise that got steadily louder and closer.

_Rufus?!_

Unmistakably, Kim's smallest friend was making a beeline for the loft. She resisted the urge to sit up and waited with baited breath for Rufus' arrival. The groan of the bottom rung of her ladder was still echoing in her chest when a small pink blob skidded to a rather sudden stop at the foot of her bed. His stop had been so sudden, in fact, that the inertia caused a good deal of Rufus' incredibly wrinkled skin to bunch up and completely overshadow his face, giving the mole rat, at least for a split second, the countenance of a pink Shar Pei dog. The sight was so unexpected that Kim couldn't help but laugh out loud.

However, Kim caught her breath when his skin slid back into place.

His legs and neck were frighteningly brittle-looking. Rufus had never been completely bald, and the handful of hairs on his body were quite long, pronounced, and shockingly white.

On the objective face of the comparison, it should have been quite amusing; however, the fact that Rufus initially reminded Kim of her father wasn't anything but heartbreaking. But there were worse tings; things that in no way reminded Kim of her father. Rufus's breaths were wheezy and shallow; he was frenetically blinking against a milky film that covered both eyes; finally, his head bobbed back and forth almost as if it were being led by invisible fingers that were pinching his bubbling nose.

However, all these outward signs of infirmity were belied by both the incredible speed with which he had raced from the front door and the undeniably large smile that framed his wizened face. And for just a second ... this smile seemed fixed upon Kim.

And then he took two fragile steps toward her, and the keening began.

Kim closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip tightly. In the red field of her eyelids, she could hear the keening grow ever louder. But she did not move. Even when the noise became so loud that it physically hurt, Kim did not so much as raise her left hand to cover an ear. Finally, Kim heard Mariko and the naked mole rat exchange pleased squeals, felt the child move away from her side, and finally sensed the keening ebb to a tolerable level. Only then did she open her eyes.

Rufus had nimbly curled around the back of Mariko's neck, and the girl was gently scratching the wrinkle folds under his chin.

"Rufus," Mariko said with a half-drowsy smile, "this is Rufina!"

The mole rat blinked rapidly in Kim's general direction and gave a friendly, well-intentioned wave to Kim's bedside lamp.

Kim forced a smile and gave Rufus a brave as could be expected two-fingered Pixie Scout salute. Just when Kim thought her cool exterior was about to crack, Mariko spoke again.

"I told you all about her ... remember, Rufus? She is my best friend in the whole wide world!"

Kim smiled, blushed and closed her eyes-content to stay in the pleasant, red warmth of her thoughts for a few minutes longer while her friends played.

III.

"Uh, … Ann?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"Could … uh … do you have a minute?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"No, you're busy. I'll ask you when you get back."

"Ron, I don't have to be at the hospital for nearly half an hour, what do you need?"

"Well, ok … I was wondering if … if I could … have … Jeeze. If I could have a picture of Kim."

"Of course, Ron! Of course you can. I've got an entire drawer full!"

"Yeah, I was kinda looking for a small one. You know, one that can … whoah!"

"Yes, I apologize, Ron."

"No, no, no, no, MrsDrP—I mean, Ann … I-I …"

"It's all right, Ron. You don't have to be nice. Our room is atrocious."

"Well, I wouldn't say … 'atrocious' … exactly."

"It is, Ron. Trust me, I know. Oh, and you can call me MrsDrP if you want to."

"Thanks."

"Actually, Ron, could you help me with a few of these stacks of books? The drawer with Kimmie's pictures is, well, blocked."

"Oh sure … where do you want 'em."

"Just toss them on the bed … oh, and this box too."

"Sure thing, MrsDrP … uh, ha-ha, pretty heavy"

"Mm-hmm, all right, let's see what we have. I used to have these organized … _somewhat_. Oh! This is a really cute one! You two had just started dating."

"Yeah, … uh, actually, I was hoping for a picture with just Kim. And small enough to fit in a wallet."

"You carry a wallet at Yamanouchi, Ron?"

"Well, no, but I wanted one that I could … you know, carry about in my gi … in a pocket."

"Okay … well, let's see, I should have plenty of 'pocket-sized' pictures. Here we are—no wait, you're in this one … okay … no, you're in that one too … hmm … now I _know_ that I have some pictures with just Kimmie … let's see. I'll try _this_ envelope."

"It's okay, Ann. If you can't find one, it's not big deal."

"Ronald, please it _is_ okay … aaaaand … here we are!"

"Wow … it's perfect."

"Right size and everything."

"You know, it's funny, MrsDrP."

"What, Ron?"

"I … I think Kim was wearing this shirt when she and Monique picked me up from the airport, y'know, when I came back from Yamanouchi the first time."

"Oh yes, the peasant shirt. I remember how badly she wanted it. Even with Monique's employee discount, she had to save a long time to get it."

"Yeah."

"You know what, Ron? I believe … no, wait, let me think … yes!"

"Yes?"

"I took this picture that very same day!"

"Wow, really?"

"Yes, I bought the camera the night before, so I took a test picture of Kim just before she left for the airport. I remember she really didn't want to take the picture. But it came out pretty good."

"Yeah … it did. Thanks, MrsDrP."

IV.

Sitting atop her computer desk, Kim contentedly kicked her legs and tried not to laugh. Still in her "night kimono," Mariko was frantically searching for Rufus beneath the pile of pillows on Kim's bed. Kim could see the naked mole rat perched on the highest shelf behind the bed. He was standing perfectly still-second from the end in a row of Kim's Cuddlebuddies. There was no doubt he was posing as a member of Kim's plush collection.

"You only have a minute left," she reminded Mariko.

"Ohhhh, I'm not going to win, am I?" the little girl asked with a frown.

"Well, you are warm." Kim said hopefully.

Mariko immediately felt her forehead. "Not to me."

"No, no, sweetie, I mean that you're close." Seeing Mariko's blank glance, Kim tried to explain, "'Warm' as opposed to 'cold.' It's like a hint."

"Soooo," Mariko said walking backwards to the head of the mattress, "if I get closer to Rufus I get …"

"'Warmer,' yes!" Kim nodded, "And you are, too."

"I'm warmer?"

"Uh-huh."

Mariko spun around and looked over the shelf with Kim's books.

"Getting warmer," Kim said glancing at her night stand clock, "but you only have half a minute."

Mariko edged toward the right end of the shelf.

"Warmer. You are getting very warm now."

Mariko started glancing around excitedly and then it occurred to her to look up.

"Hot! You are _red hot_ , Mariko!" Kim announced.

And then Mariko spotted Rufus on the top shelf wedged between Kim's Octorilla and Wallabeetle. To his credit, Rufus remained perfectly still even as the little girl started to climb up the shelves toward him.

"No, Mariko!" Kim cried as she quickly leapt from her desk. As her own cry reached her ears, Kim saw the shelf that her friend was clinging to give way. The little girl fell.

Kim dove for Mariko and caught her on her first bounce on the mattress and just seconds before the shelf smashed flat against Kim's head.

What happened next was quite unexpected.

Kim found herself and Mariko, who she was clutching tightly in her arms, flying about the room like a ping-pong ball. Every time Kim's body came into contact with any material thing: the falling shelf, the bed comforter on her mattress, Rufus—who had also leapt to Mariko's aid, the loft's cathedral ceiling, the carpeted floor, or the raised, gilded pom-pom on one of her cheering trophies, the pair of them would ricochet across the room at a breathtaking speed. It felt like that ill-advised moment when she had worn the RF-78 compound senior year; however, this time, she had more than herself to worry about. The direction changes were so violent and sudden that Kim had no choice but to ball herself around Ron's daughter, hold on with all her might, and pray that the child would be okay. And to pray that they would eventually … somehow … come to a stop.

The small of Kim's back grazed against one of the pillows balanced at her mattress' edge. The impact sent Kim and Mariko spinning headlong through the hatch opening and down the ladder.

Although she had maintained some semblance of emotional control throughout their ordeal up to that point, Kim screamed as the expansive drop over the landing's railing came hurtling into view.

Then just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Kim found herself laying flat on her back in the hallway, staring up into the day-lit opening to her loft. Mariko was sitting on her chest, facing away from her. Everything was deathly-still. Then she saw Mariko clutch her stomach and then the wailing began.

"Ohmygosh!" Kim cried, struggling to sit up on her elbows, "Sweetie, sweetie, sweetie, are you okay?" Kim felt sorer than she had ever felt before – sore to her bones, but that so didn't matter.

_What has she broken? OhmyGod, don't let anything be broken!_

When Mariko turned toward Kim's voice, there were tears in her eyes, but astonishingly, maddeningly, blessedly she was laughing.

"Booyah!" Mariko squealed. "Can we do that again? Wow! That was … Wow! So much fun!"

Kim could only shake her head in pure thankful desperation.

_Thankyouthankyouthankyou!_

And, of course, hug Mariko until her friend begged her to let go.

"I don't think we are going to be doing that again, Mariko," Kim managed finally. "Ow!"

"Oh, are you hurt, Rufina?" Mariko asked, her amusement quickly fading.

"No, I'll be fine," Kim smiled as the soreness, like all the pains she had previously endured in her "second life," began to slowly ebb away. "But I'm dead," she tried to laugh, "that is much too dangerous _for you_ to try again."

Then it occurred to Kim that as crazy as that tumble had felt, it would have _looked_ utterly fantastic to someone who happened by at that moment. Mariko would have appeared to be spinning, flying, and bouncing through the air. Fortunately, there had been no witnesses.

Kim lay back down on the carpet to further catch her breath. And spied the pink blob that was Rufus's head staring down from the hatch opening.

_Snap!_

V.

"Have you been using Monkey Power, honey?" Ron asked with obvious concern in his voice.

"No, daddy," Mariko answered. "I don't know how yet … right?"

"No," Ron nodded, his eyes still locked with those of his daughter, "you shouldn't be able to, not yet." He dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.

The wild chattering of Rufus had quickly brought both Ron and Kim's mother from the master bedroom. Although Kim was still not clear on all the implications of what Ron was saying, she could read that he was worried rather than angry with his daughter.

"Monkey Power?" Ann Possible asked.

"Yeah, Mystical Monkey Power," Ron explained absently.

"Isn't that what you got from that crazy Lord Fisk, Ron?"

Ron blanched at the mention of Monkey Fist, but he maintained a steady voice when he answered. "Yeah, and it gets passed on to my heirs. But … it shouldn't be happening this soon."

"Who's Lord F-Fisk?" Mariko asked innocently.

Before Kim could decide how to answer the little girl's question, Ron said firmly and rapidly, "A very bad man you don't need to worry about, honey."

"Ron, I thought that had been just a one-time thing," Ann said.

"Oh no," Ron said half-turning to face Kim's mother, "I still have it. In fact, that's how I got involved with Yamanouchi in the first place. It's why I'm the Chosen One and get to carry the Lotus Blade."

"Oh yes! Kim told me about that sword. I never knew about the Fisk connection, though."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "it's because of that that I'm supposed to be running Yamanouchi … at some point."

"Really? Wow. That's pretty exciting, Ron. I had no idea."

Ron turned to face his daughter again. "Yeah," he said with a half-smile and an unfocused look in his eye, "it's pretty badical, I guess." Suddenly, his eyes brightened and then his features broke into a genuine smile. "And that's why some day it'll all belong to Mariko."

Then he paused.

"Are you sure, honey?" Ron asked gently. "Are you sure there was no magic ... you didn't see a blue glow or ... hear any monkeys?"

"No, daddy." Mariko shook her head but couldn't meet her father's gaze.

Ron sat in thought and didn't say anything more.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Ann asked finally.

"Well," Ron explained, "Rufus doesn't have the best eyesight anymore, but he says that he saw Mariko flying through the room. If she does have the monkey mojo this early, it would be a first. Definitely something I would need to ask Sensei about."

Although Kim could read in her mother's face a multitude of questions-not the least two of which being whether Ron was serious about Mariko flying and just how was he able to talk to Rufus anyway, Ann said nothing. Ron, too, said nothing. And Mariko, well, Kim could tell the little girl so wanted not to be there.

"Can you tell daddy what happened, honey. Please?" Ron asked.

The words spilled and trickled from Mariko's lips before finally drying up.

"I was playing hide-and-seek with Rufus and I found him on the very top shelf above ... your friend's bed, and I climbed up to get him ... and … the shelf fell ... and I fell ... and ..."

"And?" Ron prompted.

Mariko nervously glanced all around her, bit her lower lip, gave Kim a quick look and then looked up into her father's face.

Kim took the plunge.

"It's okay, sweetie." Kim urged. "You can tell him about me. I don't want you to lie to your daddy. It's fine, you can tell him." Although it would create so many problems, Kim just couldn't make Mariko lie to Ron for her. It just felt very wrong, very bad.

"And?" Ron asked again.

"And Rufina saved me."

For a good twenty seconds, Ron gave no reaction at all to his daughter's confession. Then he suddenly smiled and smacked himself on the forehead. "Oh, of course! I forgot all about her!" He looked to the side of his daughter where Kim was _not_ kneeling and said brightly, "Thanks, Rufina!" Returning his gaze to his daughter, Ron said, "You should still be careful, honey. Rufina may not be there to save you next time. Can you do that for daddy?"

Mariko nodded happily and said that she would be careful.

But Kim could sense a sadness and something like an edge in Ron's voice as he spoke. And she could definitely read it in his walk as he and Ann made their way across the hall and down the stairs.

_Oh, boy._

VI.

Kim blinked, and then she was standing in Ron's bedroom. The disorientation of the sudden change in her environment hit her pretty hard. She reached out and steadied herself against the back of Ron's computer chair.

It was twilight or morning perhaps. Beyond the rain-splattered glass of his bedroom window, the clouds were a shade of deep purple.

She glanced about the room. Much like hers, Ron's room had changed very little since she had last seen it. It was a little less cluttered, but most of the things in the room looked the same. Well, no, not really. Although the same GWA posters were over his bed, their colors had faded. And although the same ancient computer was pushed back on his desk, it looked smaller … like it had shrunk.

"I'm sorry, Rufus, I'm sorry."

Kim spun around in the direction of Mariko's voice.

With her back to Kim, the little girl was bent over a small cage on Ron's dresser. Her left arm was reaching into the cage's open door.

_Oh no._

Kim quietly inched toward Mariko. As she got closer, she saw that the little girl was gently petting Rufus with the back of her hand. Rufus looked a shade paler than he had earlier. A bit thinner too. And when he whimpered, Kim couldn't hold back the cry that escaped her lips.

Mariko turned around and looked at Kim. "Rufina." Yet, the little girl wasn't overjoyed to see her friend.

Kim was about to say something though she didn't know what when Mariko asked in a deflated tone, "Where were you?"

"I-I don't know, sweetie," Kim replied lamely.

"I needed you. Rufus got hurt, and now he's really, really sick."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I can't control when I come and go."

Mariko didn't respond. Kim kneeled down next to her and looked at Rufus.

"He's dying, isn't he?" Mariko said flatly.

It really wasn't a question, but Kim knew she had to say _something_.

"I … I don't know, Mariko. I hope not. I hope not."

Neither said anything for a few minutes. Kim gently placed her hand on Mariko's shoulder. Mariko leaned her head against Kim's hand and sighed.

"He tripped on the stairs and fell," her quiet voice explained.

"On your Bubbe's stairs?" Kim asked.

"No, on yours." Mariko sniffled. "It was right after we flew that day. I called and called, but you never came."

"I'm so sorry, sweetie." The image of Mariko crying out for her with an injured Rufus in her arms proved too much for Kim. She kept her voice steady, but her right hand began wiping away at her pooling tears before they could spill down her cheeks.

"How long?" Kim asked. "How long have I been gone?"

"Days and days," Mariko answered as she wiped her nose. "We go back home day after tomorrow."

"Mariko, I'm so sorr—" Kim began, but she was cut off as the girl tightly embraced her around the neck. The little girl began sobbing into the hair draped across Kim's left shoulder. Kim gently patted her back, trying futilely to console her. As she searched vainly for the right words to say, her vision gradually blurred, and finally she, too, broke down.

_I'm sorry, Rufus. So, so sorry …_

Ten minutes later, Kim and Mariko were sitting on Ron's bed. Rufus lay whimpering in the girl's lap. Kim sat as close to them as the keening would allow.

"If he could just sleep," Mariko said as she rubbed his poor wrinkled back. "I'm sure he'd get better."

"He can't sleep?" Kim asked quietly.

"No, he hurts too much."

"Isn't there some medicine he can take?" Kim knew there was no way that Ron hadn't already taken Rufus to the best vet in town, but she still had to ask.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded. "He sleeps then. But he can't take too many drops. It'll make him sick."

"When can he take the medicine again?"

"After I go to bed."

The night sky in Ron's window suggested that Mariko's bedtime would not be too far off. Still, the next dosage couldn't come sooner for Rufus or Mariko or her.

Then Kim remembered something from the time she had baby-sat Rufus. It was actually something quite specific: item number four hundred and thirty-two, to be exact. She absently wondered why Ron hadn't already passed the information onto Mariko.

"Sit in my lap, sweetie," she said to Mariko, patting her leg.

"Huh?"

"Come on, and bring Rufus," she smiled.

As Mariko, carefully carrying Rufus, climbed into her friend's lap, Kim winced. Rufus was less than six inches from her body, and the keening was quite painful.

_Painful … but … doable._

"Okay, we're going to sing Rufus to sleep," Kim said, trying not to raise her voice over the piercing din that she knew Ron's daughter couldn't hear.

"Really?" Mariko looked up hopefully.

Although she couldn't hear Mariko, the word had been easy to lip-read. She smiled. "I'll sing the song first and then we'll sing it together to him."

Mariko glanced down worriedly at Rufus and then looked back up at Kim with a half-smile. She nodded.

Kim began.

"Rock-a-bye Rufus in the tree-top

When the wind blows

The cradle will rock

When the bough breaks ..."

Even though the wail from the keening prevented Kim from knowing if she was in tune or even how her voice sounded, Mariko's reaction told her she was doing just fine. Even before Kim finished singing the first line, Mariko had leaned back against Kim's chest. She could feel the tension ease out of the little girl's frame with each line she sang. As gratifying as hitting the high note at the Junior Talent Show had been and as surprisingly warm as the cheers that same night had felt, Kim had never been more pleased with her singing then when Mariko looked up and smiled at her as she began the song again.

And she couldn't even hear.

However, Mariko's sweet smile changed into one of unremitting horror when Kim sang the last lines of the lullaby for the second time.

"What's wrong, Mariko?" Kim asked urgently.

Mariko didn't say anything. She only shook her terrified face slowly from side to side.

_Oh man!_

Kim smacked herself on the forehead as she recalled the last lines she had sung.

"The cradle will fall

And down will come Rufus

Cradle and allllll!"

_That's terrible! Who writes lullabies anyway?_

"Okay, okay," Kim said hurriedly. "How about this?" She paused and rethought to make sure the new words still fit the melody or at least didn't mangle it too badly.

"When the bough breaks

The cradle WON'T fall

And up will FLOAT Rufus

Cradle and allllll!"

This version was much, much more appreciated by Mariko. Kim sang the new lullaby twice more and then prompted Mariko to sing along with her.

Again, Kim could hear nothing but the keening emanating from Rufus's body. However, it was evident from the naked mole rat's smile that Mariko's singing voice was working the magic. They sang the song again and again and again. Finally, Kim looked down and saw that their little friend was peacefully asleep. However, the vibrations Kim felt flowing from Mariko's chest into hers gave no indication that the little girl would be stopping soon. What's more, the little girl had begun to sway side to side in Kim's lap to the flow of her own singing.

Kim draped her arms on either side of the girl's shoulders, placed her hands on her bare little knees and began gently rocking the child to the melody of their song.

Mariko grew heavy in Kim's lap, and the vibrations from her chest shifted from the beat of a song to the incessant sawing of snores. Kim slowed the rocking and then carefully lifted Mariko off her lap and propped her sleeping body against Ron's pillow at the head of the bed. Firmly snuggled in the child's protective embrace, Rufus slept on.

VII.

Kim had settled down on the opposite end of the bed to "dream" herself to sleep when Ron slowly opened the door to his room.

He looked awful. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was ferociously ruffled. What's more, his blond goatee that had been neatly trimmed since she had first noticed it at Yamanouchi had morphed into a scruffy beard that covered most of his lower face. He looked like he had just woken up and yet was starved for a good night's sleep. Kim didn't need to imagine how Rufus' illness had been upsetting him; she could read the stressful hours etched in his face.

How long had Ron been like this? Then she recalled Mariko's words from earlier, "days and days."

Ron glanced worriedly at the empty cage on his dresser, but the anxiety in his eyes softened when they fell upon the bed. He quietly crossed the room and kneeled down by the bedside. His faced relaxed into an exhausted smile, and he went to ruffle his sleeping daughter's hair. At the last second, he thought better of it, and blew her a kiss instead. Then with a groan, he turned and sat down heavily upon the floor. He laid his head back against the mattress's edge and closed his eyes.

_Go to sleep, honey. You need your rest._

Kim closed her eyes also and laid her head back on the bed.

Since Ron had not turned off the bedroom light, Kim could return to the red field of her eyelids. It wasn't as deep a shade of red as when the sun shone upon her, and it wasn't warm, but it would do.

"Kim?"

Her eyes immediately shot wide; an anxious tingling swarmed through her entire body.

"R-Ron?"

"I miss you, Kim. I miss you so much."

Kim stared at the back of her best friend's head.

"Ron?" she crept forward, nervous hope pounding in her ears.

Then she saw. She saw that Ron was holding a small picture in his hands. She recognized her auburn hair in the corner of the photo that she could just make out over his shoulder.

He wasn't talking to her. He was only talking to her memory.

Kim collapsed on the bed, her head facing away from him. She tried not to hear. Tried not to think. Tried not to feel.

"I need you."

Kim closed her eyes and tried to find her way back to the pleasant red void from days earlier. However, Ron's voice pursued her. He spoke about the past and about things that had happened since ... since she had died. She considered getting up and leaving; Ron _had_ left his door open. However, something ... a feeling, no, a sense of weight in her chest compelled her to stay where she was.

Fortunately, Ron left out most of the painful things. He didn't mention her funeral or Monkey Fist. But he did speak about Yori.

"I know you two only met once or twice, KP, but I think you would have become friends."

_OhGodohGodohGod. Why! Why are You doing this to me?_

"She was ..." Ron continued, "she was a good wife." He stopped.

Kim could tell he was crying.

_This is so unfair, so unfair!_

She wanted to comfort him so badly, but at the same time couldn't deny the immense hatred for Ron's "good wife" bubbling inside her.

"But," Ron said, regaining control, "she couldn't be my friend. And she would _never_ be my best friend. And sometimes that's what I needed." He sighed deeply and shifted his weight against the bed. "It's what I need now."

"I'm still your best friend, Ron." Kim said without changing her position, turning her head, or opening her eyes. Her voice sounded bright and confident and upon hearing it, Kim suddenly felt surprisingly peaceful and ... content.

"I think you would have liked my little girl," Ron said with a sniffle.

"Oh, I do, Ron. I love her."

"I named her Mariko. You know, after that girl in mom's movie I was in love with when we were kids." Ron allowed himself a half-chuckle.

"Oh, I know, Ron!" Kim laughed. "That was so like you."

"Anyway, I know she would have loved you."

"She's wonderful, Ron. She's the most precious thing I've ever seen."

Ron didn't say anything for a few long minutes, and Kim was beginning to worry about him. Finally, he stated the obvious, "I wish you were here, KP. I really do."

"I am here, honey. You don't know it, but I am." She turned her head and opened her eyes.

Ron was just placing the picture back into the pocket of his shirt. He then lay down on the floor.

Kim edged over so she could look at him. He was far enough away that the keening remained silent.

"I'm here," she whispered as she watched him close his eyes. And she repeated the phrase again. And again. Always just above a whisper. Always comforting with a touch of felicity in her voice. Again and again. Until his snores let her know that he was asleep.

And then she whispered, without tears, "I love you, Ron."

* * *

_To Be Continued …_


	10. Nine

I.

After listening contentedly to the cacophony made up of the snoring of her best friend, his daughter, and their pet naked mole rat for a good hour or so, Kim discerned another sound, a gentler sound, in the room. In between the snores of her three friends, there were gentle taps … coming from Ron's window.

_Rain._

Kim carefully got off the mattress and made her way across the room to look out upon the night. She had noticed the raindrops on the window when she first arrived in the room. The darkness outside was almost complete save for an amber oval of sidewalk she could make out beneath the street-lamp fifty yards or so down the road. Then she realized that all the snow was gone. Washed away, most likely, in the days she had been gone. The window must not have been shut all the way or perhaps had a small break in its seal because she could just catch a faint scent of rain as she placed her forehead against the coolness of the window. She closed her eyes and smiled. Listening to the steady beat of the raindrops against the panes, the eaves, and the roof, it was easy for Kim to imagine that everything was normal.

The weather couldn't help but remind her of the previous spring and the one before and the one before that. And so on. A dull ache formed in the center of her chest; she bit her lip.

Reluctantly but swiftly, Kim pulled herself away from the soothing drum of the rain and walked back toward the bed … to where that peaceful yet painfully nostalgic sound could be swallowed by the snores of her best friends.

As she sat down at the bed's foot, Mariko stirred. The little girl raised her head, stretched out her right arm, and yawned. Blinking her eyes open, she gently scooped up Rufus in her arms and attempted to crawl off the bed. Kim made to help her down, but Mariko managed quite well unassisted. Still cradling Rufus, Mariko stepped nimbly around her father's legs and then curled down in front of him like a cat. She inched her body back in to the curve of his chest, and, once her shoulders encountered his arms, she was gathered in his reflexive sleepy embrace.

Mariko had not so much as glanced in Kim's direction, so Kim was fairly certain that the little girl had not noticed her. Yet, as these thoughts formed in her mind, Mariko whispered with a smile, "Good night, Rufina."

"Good night, sweetie." Kim whispered back.

The little girl's snoring followed Kim's words so quickly that she was unsure if Mariko had even heard her.

_I guess it probably is a good idea if you guys get used to sleeping on the floor again._

Kim sighed and sat up. The prospect of having to return to that dreadful school again, let alone seeing Ron and his daughter back there was so disheartening. Especially, after the terrible revelations Ron had made that morning concerning Mariko's inheritance ... or curse-

_Waitaminute, that wasn't today, Possible! That was 'days and days' ago._

Kim shook her head to dispel the consternation her "black-outs" continued to give her; there were much more worrisome things to contemplate. The notion that Ron and Mariko might spend the rest of their lives at Yamanouchi, for instance. Thinking of Ron and poor Mariko being forced to abide by and enforce that school's duplicitous and reptilian code of honor until they were both as old as Sensei was horrible! Far too horrible.

Something had to be done to get them away from the school and away from that man's poisoned influence. As Kim began thinking about what she could possibly do, her ears erupted in keening. Jumping back and looking down, she realized she had been walking only a few inches from Ron's bent knees. Kim had been so deep in thought that she had failed to realize she had begun pacing Ron's floor. She turned and looked toward his open doorway.

Part of her, the part that dreaded the "black-outs" and constantly feared that some benign, everyday object might suddenly, at any moment of any day, become an impenetrable boundary that would separate her from those she loved told her to stay put-to continue her ruminations from the relative safety of Ron's bed.

However, Kim was far too wound up for such advice to stick. Also, she knew she did her best thinking when on the move. She gave Ron, Mariko and Rufus a quick parting glance and headed for the doorway.

_Just a five minute pace around the house-I'll be right back._

As she made her way down the length of the Stoppable's long hallway (Ron's room was at the blind end), Kim reflected that, in an ironic twist, the one to blame for the current sitch was the late Lord Fiske. If the crazed simian-obsessed English noble had just found something else to go "ape" over, like marmots for example, then Mystical Monkey Power would never have become such a lifelong issue for Ron. Then again, Kim reflected, there was no way Fiske couldn't have caused some trouble; as Ron had intuited from the start, his Lordship was five hundred miles of bad road.

"No," she said aloud, as a thought struck her like a thunderclap. "It's not Monkey Fist's fault. It's mine."

Ron had known from the second they met Lord Fiske that he was bad news. But she- _she_ had been so impressed with Fiske's reputation and so dead set against her friend's hunch. After all, Fiske was an English Lord and a respected scientist, and Ron was being weird and just ... just Ron. So instead of fighting by her best friend's side against someone who would become one of their most dangerous foes, Kim had let Ron down. He had to resort to poisoning himself (and now his child) with that horrible monkey voodoo just to escape that sitch with his life.

Kim leaned heavily against the wall at the top of the stairs.

That had led to Ron's initial involvement with Yamanouchi. Sensei probably would not have ever known (or cared) that Ron Stoppable even existed. Now his entire existence and that of his daughter was a prison, and the sentence was for life. _She_ was to blame.

The skies erupted and crashed upon the roof of the house.

The cloudburst was so sudden and startling that Kim actually jumped. As she caught her breath and tried to calm the heartbeats pounding in her ears, she remembered … the last time there had been such a strong downpour had been last spring. The storm that had forced Ron and her into the Silver Gazebo.

As sudden as the inexplicable shift in the weather, a surging wave of emotion, equal parts shame and relief, overtook Kim. She closed her eyes and brushed away the stray tears before they could track down her cheeks. It was so stupid and selfish for her to try and lay blame on Fiske or herself or anyone for the way things were.

This _was_ the sitch, and she just needed to deal. The past could not be changed. Besides ... even if she could go back and do it all again differently, would she?

So what if she had followed Ron's lead and not trusted Fiske? What if Ron hadn't received the Power and hadn't drawn Sensei's attention? What if he hadn't met Yori and what if she hadn't become taken with him or with the Power (or both)? Perhaps Kim wouldn't have died and perhaps she and Ron would be enjoying a life together right now.

Perhaps.

But then Mariko wouldn't exist.

And of all the heartrending thoughts and events that had assailed her in her "second life," the thought of a world without Ron's daughter tore through Kim more than any other.

She sighed, hugged her shoulders, and opened her eyes. It was time to go back to bed.

But when she turned back down the hall, she noticed that one of the side doors was swung open. The figure of Barbara Jo was in Ron's doorway at the end of the hall.

_Oh man, no!_

Kim hurried down the hall, but her fears were well-founded.

Satisfied that her son and granddaughter were settled in for the night, Barbara Jo flipped off the room's light, and, just as Kim got within keening range of her, she shut the door.

II.

Suddenly, Barbara Jo was wearing different clothes, and she was closing a different door. Then she cracked it open again, placed her head outside, mumbled a few words, and then shut it again.

The first thought the lit through Kim's mind, faster than she could formulate it into words, was that it was the two days later and Ron's mother had just said goodbye to Ron and Mariko and was closing the front door and that they were on their way back to Yamanouchi and she was going to be separated from them forever.

Following fast behind this terrible notion were a handful of realizations. Wouldn't Barbara Jo be driving them to the airport? How did Kim know for sure that two days had passed? And why would Barbara Jo be smiling if her son and granddaughter had just left? Finally, the door wasn't the Stoppables' front door anyway. It was hers.

Just as it dawned on Kim that she was standing in the middle of her parent's foyer, she heard a welcomed cry from behind her.

"Rufina!"

Kim turned and discovered a beaming Mariko with a much-improved-looking Rufus curled sleepily about her neck.

"I knew you'd make it!" she cried.

Kim smiled at the little girl, still somewhat confused as to what was going on. She then noticed her parents and Ron walking in from the living room.

"So Rufina's here, huh?" Kim's father asked. "I guess the gang's all here then."

This last statement got him a gentle elbow in the ribs from Ann.

Kim was really confused now.

_What is going on here?_

She glanced to Ron. He was the only person not smiling. Although he did not look exceedingly miserable, his face held its "normal" unhappy expression.

"What's going on, sweetie?" Kim asked.

"Shhh!" Mariko half-whispered to her, "it's a secret."

"What's a secret, sweetie?"

"SURPRISE!" a chorus of strangely familiar unfamiliar voices erupted behind Kim.

She turned and somehow managed not to fall over.

_Ohmygosh! Jim?! Wade?! Tim?!_

Decked in their Team Possible mission gear, the three young men were even more buffed in the flesh than they had appeared in the photo. Each had his arms laden with sacks from Bueno Nacho. But not for long. Tim's bags were suddenly airborne as he dashed across the room in a blonde streak that collided headlong into Ron's middle and lifted him off the floor.

"Daddy!" Mariko, suddenly terrified, cried out.

"It's okay, sweetie," Kim smiled, trying hard not to laugh. "They're just playing. Look!"

And sure enough, Mariko saw that her father's face, now upside down as his body was hanging over the larger man's back, was laughing.

Suddenly, Kim was swallowed up in thundering keening. Reflexively placing her hands to her ears, she turned to see Jim racing toward her. She scooted out of the way just in time.

Perplexed by her friend's retreating figure, Mariko was taken completely by surprise as Jim snatched her from the floor and tossed her high into the air. Her frightened scream dissolved into a squeal of laughter as she landed in his playful embrace.

"Hey, little one," Jim said, "you must be Mariko."

"Uh-huh," Mariko managed between laughs.

"I'm Jim," he explained, "one of your daddy's old friends-Hey! Rufus!"

Shaken but none the worse for wear, Rufus gave Jim a friendly salute from behind Mariko's left ear.

Kim sat on the floor, arms draped about her knees, and tried to take in the maelstrom of excitement and, well, joy that had suddenly erupted in the room. Her parents and Ron's mom were laughing very hard; Barbara Jo, in fact, was practically doubled over. But they couldn't be heard over the squeals coming from both Mariko and Ron as Kim's brothers commenced giving them tickle tortures.

Even Wade, as he begrudgingly picked up the sacks of food Jim and Tim had unceremoniously dropped to the floor, was smiling broadly.

Then Kim caught a glance of another familiar face.

"Felix!" she cried aloud.

As he always had, Felix Renton exuded a laid back, easygoing air as his state-of-the-art wheelchair rolled into the foyer. Although Kim considered him one of her really good friends, she had never realized how much he had meant to her until she saw him at that moment. Intermingled with the warm feelings she felt were memories of her last Christmas. Felix had patiently tutored her on one of those Zombiemadnessmayhemwhatever video games, so she could give Ron a modicum of challenge when it was his turn to pick what everyone played on Possible family game night. Kim noticed that as his cool pale blue eyes sought out and found Ron, they were shining.

"Stoppable!"

"Felix!" Ron cried out as he struggled free from Tim's grasp. He ran over to his friend, and they hugged. Ron's embrace was so intense that he lifted Felix half out of his chair.

"Wow, Ron," Felix commented as he settled himself back in his seat, "would you look at us. Two bearded old men!"

_Whoa!_

Somehow Kim hadn't noticed Felix's rather full beard until he mentioned it.

"Yeah, what's up with that, Ron?" Tim said in mock anger.

"You grow that goatee," Jim said picking up his brother's thread.

"Get all three of us to grow one too," Tim continued, indicating Jim and Wade with flips of his thumb.

"And now you go all 'mountain man' on us." Jim concluded.

"Waitaminute! What am I, the facial hair guru?" Ron said throwing up his hands.

"No, you're Ron Stoppable," Jim began.

"You don't follow trends," Tim continued.

"You start them," they finished together.

It was particularly difficult for Kim not to laugh during this "discussion" because she was watching Mariko's eyes bounce back and forth between her brothers as they relayed their responses in traditional tweeb fashion.

"So you'll give my man a hug, but not me?" a saucy voice teased from the doorway.

"Monique?" Kim and Ron said in unison. Ron spun around in the voice's direction, and Kim reflexively sprung to her feet and almost started to sprint to her friend ... before she remembered.

Ron reached Monique and hugged her clear off her feet. She began swatting his back when he refused to put her down after ten seconds.

"Dude boy, you had so better put me down _now_!" she yelled with a smile.

Once her feet were back on the ground, she planted an enthusiastic kiss on Ron's cheek.

"Whoa! Someone needs to SALC, ninja boy," she said giving him a fully arched eyebrow.

"Are you okay, Rufina?" Mariko asked tugging at Kim's left pants' leg.

"Oh yes. Yes, I'm just fine, sweetie!" Kim said, watching her two very best friends teasing each other.

"No, wait, let me guess," Ron said, scratching his head, " ... Salmon Always Love Celery ... or maybe Saskatchewan-"

"You're crying," Mariko's depressed voice stated.

"Don't hurt yourself, Ron," Monique said holding up her hand, "Shave A Little Closer."

"Am I?" Kim said confused. She wiped at her cheeks as she kneeled down to the little girl's level. "Oh, it's okay, sweetie. They're just happy tears." She explained. "It's just so good to see every-" Out of the corner of her eye, Kim caught a retreating flash of blue eyes beside Felix's wheelchair. "Justin," she breathed.

Although Mariko followed Kim's look, the little boy had already stepped back to his hiding place behind his father's chair. And before she could ask who Justin was, the little girl was once again airborne. It was now Tim's turn to give Ron's little girl a flying lesson.

Her brother's sudden appearance had resulted in such a sudden, violent burst of keening that Kim's left ear was still ringing as she backed into the center of the foyer. She shook her head against the annoying tone. When she looked up again, she saw Wade, both arms weighed down with greasy Bueno Nacho bags, approach Ron, who was still speaking with Monique and Felix.

"Hey, Ron!" Wade hollered.

Ron turned to Wade and went to shake hands, but when he saw that his friend's hands were full, he stopped. They looked awkwardly at each other. Wade turned toward Tim and Jim, but they were playing an impromptu game of catch- with a squealing Mariko and Rufus in place of the ball. He then shot a look to Monique, who shot him a look back and defiantly crossed her arms over her blouse.

Wade sighed. He looked hard at Ron for a moment and then dropped all the bags to the floor. Stepping over the sacks of broken and running nacos, he fiercely embraced his friend.

Slowly, Kim pivoted completely around on her right heel and discovered that she was surrounded by a ring of smiling friends and relatives. And she felt suddenly at peace at the center of that circle. Like falling into music. Like the warmth of a Christmas Eve party. Like taking an afternoon nap with your best friend.

Even as the circle began to collapse inward and the keening pressed upon her on all sides, Kim could not stop smiling. When she saw a slight break in the ring, she covered both ears, lowered her head, charged to the edge, and escaped.

Kim sat midway up the steps of her parent's staircase and viewed the reunion from a safe distance. She could not deny an ache of loneliness as she watched the others, but, even so, she could still feel their residual warmth reaching out toward her.

Even so. Even so.

III.

Barbara Jo, Ann, and, at Ann's insistence, Jim gathered up the squashed and semi-squashed Bueno Nacho bags and carried them into the kitchen. After what seemed like only a handful of seconds, Jim sprinted back into the foyer, alone, and rejoined the cluster of good humor that was surrounding Ron.

Kim could only catch snippets of the conversations.

"Classes are going pretty well," Jim said offhandedly, "when I bother to go."

"Jim!" his father yelled outraged.

"Whaaat?" Jim complained.

"Don't you _teach_ these classes?" Monique asked, backing up James.

"We had planned on showing up around noon," Wade was explaining to Ron.

"But something came up," said Tim.

"A save the world type of thing?" Ron asked knowingly.

"Nah," Tim said with a touch of derision.

"Just Drakken," Wade said absently.

As amusing as interesting and as maddening as these snippets of conversation were, Kim was far more intent on the subdued one Felix was having with ... well, apparently, with his chair. Leaning so his head was almost touching his left armrest, he was whispering to the side of his chair and then cupping his ear to see what it had to say in reply. This conversation piqued Mariko's interest as well. Kim saw the little girl cautiously walk toward Felix to get a better look at what he was doing. When Felix noticed Mariko, he stopped talking to his chair and leaned forward so he could speak with her.

_Shoot!_

Since everyone else was being so loud and Felix was being his usual soft-spoken self, it was impossible for Kim to make out a word of what was being said. She was so focused, in fact, on their conversation that she was only vaguely aware that Monique was walking in her direction.

"Hey, girl, how are you doing?"

The sensation her friend's question had upon Kim was only slightly less jarring than when Ron had called out to her a few nights before. A quick glance at Monique confirmed that a miracle had not occurred. Everything was normal; she was still dead.

Monique was talking to a picture of Kim that hung along the stairway wall. The picture had been taken after one of the final Middleton home football games senior year. Kim was in her cheer uniform and Ron was still in his pads and cleats. As Kim recalled, Monique had taken that picture with her "traded-up" cell phone.

Monique kissed the first two fingers of her right hand and placed them gently on the picture right above Kim's face.

Kim sighed, hugged her shoulders tightly, and then smiled. "All things considered, Mon," Kim said honestly, "I'm feeling pretty good."

She glanced at Mariko, still in earnest conversation with Monique's husband. "Things are going pretty good."

IV.

Suddenly, Kim's full attention was drawn back to Mariko. The little girl had darted around Felix's chair and vanished.

A few seconds later, however, she reappeared at his side, looking somewhat crestfallen. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and encouragingly pointed to the opposite side of the group, down to where Jim was standing. He said something to Mariko that, again, Kim couldn't make out. Mariko nodded happily and ran over to Jim and then peaked around the large, young man. Aside from ruffling her hair, Jim didn't interfere with whateveritwas the little girl was trying to do.

Once more, the little girl took off around the other side of the group. And, once again, she reappeared with a disheartened look on her face.

A flash of confused movement at Felix's elbow confirmed what Kim had been suspecting about the sitch. Since Monique was already walking back to join her husband, Kim had a clear path to her young friend.

"What's wrong, Mariko?" Kim asked as she kneeled down to where the little girl was despondently sitting on the tile floor.

Mariko didn't look up, but continued to stroke Rufus's head as he slept on her shoulder. "I-I don't think he likes me."

"Who, sweetie?"

"The little boy."

"Oh, I'm sure he likes you!"

"Then why does he run away from me?" Mariko said, finally raising her eyes to meet Kim's gaze.

"Maybe he's just shy, sweetie."

"Shy? You mean he-he's scared of me!" Mariko asked horrified.

_Hoo boy!_

"Well, no, I mean, yes, kinda." Kim stammered.

_Great start, Possible!_

"Well, when I first went to school I really wanted to make friends," Kim explained, "but I was also really afraid to leave my mommy and daddy. I wanted to be friendly, but I was ... scared, too-you know, shy."

"Really? What did you do?" Mariko looked sincerely flabbergasted that anyone could be scared of something they really wanted.

"Your daddy helped me," Kim smiled.

"He did? How?"

Just as Kim was about to explain to Mariko how she and Ron first met, she caught a glance of someone walking, very cautiously, up behind the little girl. "Maybe I should tell you later, sweetie." Kim smiled. "I think you have a visitor," she pointed behind the little girl's shoulder.

Mariko turned around.

The little boy was maybe three inches shorter than Mariko, but it was hard to tell for certain since he his head was dipped to the floor. His right hand was balled into a small fist while his left anxiously ran up and down his corduroy pants leg. He seemed very, very nervous.

"Hi!" Mariko said taking a step toward him.

"H-hey" he answered, taking a half-step backwards.

Mariko took a half-step forward. "My name's Mariko, what's yours?"

"J-Justin," the boy managed, again taking a half-step back. His head remained pointed to the floor.

"Justin," Mariko said appreciatively, seeing how the name sounded on her tongue.

"Yes?" Justin said, reflexively shooting up his head and looking Mariko in the eyes.

_Oh my God._

The warm flutter Kim had initially felt the first time she had spoken Monique and Felix's son's name was amplified ten-fold when she saw his face and felt his gorgeous eyes taking everything in. His beautiful mocha skin and gentle, subdued features perfectly framed his breathtaking cerulean eyes.

_Oh Mon, oh Mon. Wow._

"I really like your name," Mariko explained.

Immediately, Justin's head shot back down. He mumbled a few words and shuffled something from one hand to the other. Now his left hand was balled into a fist while his right nervously itched his pants leg.

"What did you say?" Mariko asked, taking another step forward.

"Y-your name's pretty," Justin said taking yet another step backward.

Mariko took another step forward. "Thanks, your name is beautiful," Mariko said earnestly.

"Really?" Justin said, raising his head a second time.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded and took another step closer to the little boy.

Justin had been so surprised by Mariko's appreciation of his name that he had forgotten to take a step back. Since she had taken a step forward, they were now standing closer to each other then they ever had.

He didn't say anything more just stared into her eyes. After five seconds, he started to lower his head and made to step away again.

"This is my best friend Rufina," Mariko said waving behind her in Kim's direction.

Kim had been following Mariko and Justin's conversation so intently that she was momentarily taken off her guard when she heard her name mentioned. She was even more taken aback when she heard Justin's response to the introduction.

"C-can I pet her?"

_Huh?_

"Huh?" Mariko asked, obviously puzzled.

Justin gestured toward Rufus' groggy form on Mariko's left shoulder.

"Oh, no, that's Rufus!" Mariko exclaimed, understanding the mistake. "He's a good friend of mine, too. But this is Rufina," she said gesturing once more to Kim.

Justin looked past Mariko to the general area where Kim was standing. He wore a perplexed look and his eyes seemed to cloud over.

"You should probably tell him that he can't see me, sweetheart," Kim whispered helpfully.

"That's right. I'm sorry, Justin-Rufina's invisible." Mariko explained.

"Oh!" Justin said. Then he smiled for the first time. "Okay."

_Oh man, that smile!_

"Hi, Rufina." He said quietly with a small wave.

"Nice to meet you, Justin," Kim said, returning his wave.

_Whoah!_

A warm pleasant sensation rippled across Kim's belly as she spoke to the little boy for the first time.

_Weird … good … but still weird._

"C-can I pet, Rufus?" Justin asked.

"Sure." Mariko said as she gently took the mole rat from her shoulder and held him out to Justin.

Justin swapped whateveritwas from his left hand to his right, and reached out to touch Rufus' head.

"He feels funny," Justin said with his second smile.

"Yes," Mariko said, "but he's nice and warm."

"Yes, he is," Justin nodded.

Kim, kneeling just outside Rufus' keening aura (about a foot behind Mariko), was pleased to see that Justin seemed much more relaxed and was no longer fidgeting with his pants legs. Just as Kim was about to tell Mariko that she had known all along that the little boy would like her, she saw Ron approaching.

"Hey there, spunky monkey!" he said happily.

"Hiya, funky monkey!"

"And who is this?" Ron asked, pleasantly looking down at the instantly nervous little boy.

Beaming up at her father, Mariko announced, "This is my friend Justin!"

* * *

_To be continued ..._


	11. Ten

I.

Because the vast majority of them had been damaged by Team Possible, the nacos were eaten in the manner that Mariko preferred—"deconstructed" with plastic sporks.

From "her spot" on the couch, Kim had a perfect vantage point for seeing and hearing everything at Ron and Mariko's farewell dinner. The dining room conversations ran the gamut from career talk (Felix's firm was coordinating tests with the Space Center, the new neurological wing at the Hospital was being co-financed by Barbara Jo's bank) to the parenting talk of Monique and Wade (he had recently endured a week-long visit from his nine-year-old cousin, Beatrice) to the "boys' talk" at Ron and tweebs' end of the table.

The good it did Kim to see her best friend relaxed and behaving goofy once more was immense. Yet measured. No matter how raucous they got, Kim still sensed brittleness in their laughter, a false note in their merriment. As good as they obviously felt, there wasn't any way to shake the fact that Ron was going "home" the next day.

And then there was the "secret" conversation between Mariko and Justin. At first, Kim thought they were playing some prearranged game; whispering everything they said into each other's ears. However, it soon became obvious to her that this was Justin's preferred way of communicating.

Without question, he was one of the sweetest little boys Kim had ever seen. However, Justin was also, hands down, the shiest person she had ever met. The degree of bashfulness Monique's son was battling made Kim's own modest bout with shyness-which she had overcome with Ron's help on that first day of preschool, seem like bold recklessness in comparison.

Even though he was flanked by his mother and his new friend, Justin seemed overly cowed by the presence of the others at the table. Even someone as non-threatening as Ann, who was sitting across from him, made him blush and quake a little when she spoke to him. When he wished to ask his mother something, he would stand on his knees, lean over with cupped hands, and whisper it in her ear. And this method of cupped whispers was how he and Mariko were carrying on their conversation. It was both undeniably cute and maddening. Kim so wanted to know what they were saying to each other.

"So," Ron said between mouthfuls, "What was Blue Boy's wacked out plan this time?"

Kim couldn't help being drawn back to the conversation at the end of the table once "boys talk" shifted into Team Possible "shop talk."

"Oh," Jim said unwrapping another squished naco, "taking over Iceland."

"Again," Tim added with a groan.

"He wasn't after the whole enchilada?" Ron asked a little surprised.

"Oh, no," Wade explained, "Drakken hasn't had a take-over-the-world scheme for at least two years. Not since Shego went solo."

_No way!_

"No way!" Ron said dropping his spork. "Shego went solo!"

"Yep." Jim nodded.

"You could definitely see it coming," Tim added.

"Shego was so less-than-motivated on those last couple of plots," Jim stated flatly.

"The telling point for me," Wade said between bites, "was when we broke into his lair during that mind-controlling latte fiasco."

"Exactly," Tim nodded, "sure, Shego shot her plasma at us …"

"But she didn't even _pretend_ to aim …" Jim continued.

"Or even get out of her chair." Tim concluded.

"Gee," Ron said with an unmistakable note of disappointment, "what's she doing now?"

"Small-time stuff," Wade explained. "Most of it too petty to hit GJ's radar."

"Shego's never been exceptionally ambitious," Jim said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "I guess not."

_Wow._

Kim couldn't deny feeling a twinge of ... well, not sadness, but disappointment at hearing about her rival's shabby decline.

After a brief moment of silence, Tim asked warily, "What's the latest on Drakken, Wade?"

"Don't worry, Tim," Wade said rolling his eyes, "GJ said they would alert me immediately if his condition turned out to be serious."

"Condition?" Ron asked.

"Apparently, he tore a ligament in his leg," Wade began.

" _ **I**_ tore a ligament in his leg," Tim countered unpleasantly.

"Amp down," Jim said tersely, "we've both done that move on him _dozens_ of times. It's nothing to get upset about."

"I'm sorry," Tim practically yelled, "but I don't particularly want the guy to have a broken hip-it's practically a death sentence to guys Drakken's age."

Neither Ron nor the three members of Team Possible spoke for a few minutes. Finally, their conversation restarted when Wade brought up the release of _Zombie Mayhem XII_.

Hearing about her arch-foes' decline put Kim into a funk. Although she definitely did not "like" Shego and Drakken, hearing that they had fallen on tough times did not give her pleasure. Learning that Drakken was getting old and … well … _fragile_ was especially disheartening. Not the least reason being that Drew Lipsky was the same age as her father, and that fact reinforced her fears about his health. However, more than anything else, the dissolution of what Drakken had once termed his "Evil Family" was yet another example of the advance of mortality upon the world Kim had once called hers.

She sighed and returned her full attention to Mariko and Justin.

II.

Rufus was now wide-awake and going from each child's plate to scrounge what he could. Justin, it seemed, did not like beans, and, although she had devoured every bit of her first naco almost two weeks earlier, Mariko had left her beans untouched as well. Kim suspected it might have been a sympathetic gesture for her new friend. Regardless of the reason, Rufus definitely appreciated her gesture and quickly decimated the "bean piles" on both of their plates.

Mariko and Justin were maintaining a level of almost sombre seriousness in their "secret" discussion. And it was apparently a fairly complex conversation, too. It wasn't as if they were merely trading whispers; it wasn't a one-to-one relay, not at all. One child might whisper to the other three or four times in a row (with each whisper varying considerably in length) before the other would whisper his or her comment. And then there were the periods when neither would whisper anything; instead, they would both sit deep in thought working over what each other had said. And, surprisingly enough, Justin was doing most of the talking.

Even though he had displayed an almost paralyzing degree of bashfulness when he was speaking aloud to Mariko in the foyer just a half hour earlier, he seemed very confidant and at ease when his mouth was shielded by his hand and he was speaking directly into her ear. At these moments, the only remnant of his anxious nature could be read in the frenetic movement of his hands. He continued to shift some hidden object between his palms all through dinner.

"So, little man, are you going to give Mariko your surprise or what?" Monique asked suddenly. Like Kim, she had been intently watching the conversation between the two.

Immediately, Justin got to his knees and went to whisper-answer his mother's question.

"No, no, no," Monique said, shaking her head and holding up both hands. "Either you do it or you don't, Justy."

Justin sat back down in his seat and looked sheepishly at Mariko.

Kim couldn't help noting how quickly and inexplicably he reverted to his shy mode around someone who seconds before he had seemed extremely confident.

Slowly, tentatively, Justin held out his left fist to Mariko and slowly-painfully so, uncurled his fingers. In his palm rested a small, sparkling green ... lump.

_What in the world?_

Kim jumped off the back edge of the couch and moved as close to the table as the keening would allow. She was standing about a foot behind her mother and Felix's chairs and could just see Mariko, on the opposite side of the table, take the sparkling blob from Justin. Mariko's eyes seemed twice as large as normal, and she was blushing.

"Wow! Is this for me?" she gushed.

Justin leaned over and whispered quickly in her ear and then sat back down. Kim assumed he had answered her question with a short "yes."

"It-it's beautiful!" she beamed.

Kim studied the small object carefully.

_Is that what I think it is?_

Although Mariko clearly appreciated Justin's gift, it was also clear she had no idea what to do with it.

"I think it's candy, sweetie. Chocolate." Kim called.

"Chocolate?" Mariko asked.

Justin nodded enthusiastically.

"It's tastes kinda like your Bubbe's cocoa," Kim explained helpfully.

Rufus was suddenly standing on Mariko's wrist volunteering his services in unwrapping the present. Once he did, the consequences of a piece of chocolate being held in the nervous palm of a small boy for the greater part of an hour became apparent to all. What wasn't apparent, at least not to Mariko, was what to do with the molten chocolate once it was unwrapped. Fortunately, Rufus provided the perfect model as he licked the excess chocolate off his paws.

Like everyone else present, Kim couldn't help laughing as Mariko quickly devoured her present leaving a good share of it in her hand and on her lips and right cheek.

"Wow!" Mariko said appreciatively. "I mean, wow! That was delicious!"

As she was still savoring the last of the chocolate smear on her palm, Justin urgently whispered something to her. In the process, he managed to get his hand dirty and to spread the splotch on her cheek back to her ear. To his question, she nodded enthusiastically and then whispered something urgently in return.

Justin spun around in his seat and went to whisper to his mother. She stopped him with an arched eyebrow, wiped off his hand with a Bueno Naco napkin and then let him continue.

"What?!" Monqiue was obviously floored by what she had just heard. "Really?"

"What did Justy ask, Mon?" Felix said with piqued interest.

Monique stared at her son for a few seconds and then said, "You heard your father. Go tell him what you just asked me."

Justin promptly got down off his seat, walked around his mother, Barbara Jo, and Ann Possible until he reached his father's chair. He then whispered into Felix's waiting ear.

"Really?" Felix asked his son. "Are you sure?"

Again, Justin nodded enthusiastically.

"What do you think?" Felix asked his wife.

"I think someone needs to wash up after dinner while we discuss things." Monique replied coolly.

"Can I wash up too, daddy?" Mariko asked as Justin obediently walked past Kim and into the Possible's kitchen.

"Sure, honey" Ron said.

Kim had been so intent on the mystery of what exactly the little boy had asked that she needed to jump out of Justin's way at the last possible second. If she hadn't been alerted by the tale-tell sound of his corduroy pants rubbing together, he might have bumped into her.

Once both kids had left the room, James Possible broke the silence. "Okay, what exactly is going on?"

"Justin has asked," Monique said slowly deliberately ominously as she looked unblinking into Ron's eyes, "if he could sleep over at your house tonight."

_Perfect! That would be so great-wait ... why is Mon acting so weird?_

"O-okay," Ron said warily. "And that's a big deal because ...?"

"Justin has never asked to sleep over at anyone's house before," Felix explained.

"Justin won't even 'sleep over' in his room," Monique said in exasperation. "He'll only sleep if he's in bed with us."

"My goodness," Ann said, "I wonder why that is. He's a little young, but have you thought about him seeing a sleep specialist?"

"Believe me, Ann," Monique said with slanted eyes aimed directly at Wade, "I know exactly why he only sleeps with us, and he has already had too many dealings with _so-called specialists_."

Even though she was sitting two empty chairs away, Wade edged away from Monique. "Oh, come on!" he protested. "You're not still blaming his insomnia on _that_ are you?"

"If by 'that' you mean the time you told him our townhouse was haunted, **YES, I AM**!" Monique erupted.

"Look, the family that lived there before reported some pretty strange stuff," Wade began.

"Dude," Felix warned kindly as he watched his wife beginning to ball the tablecloth in both fists, "you should probably stop talking now."

"It's just that I was really interested in ghosts when I was his age and I thought ..." Wade continued.

"Uh, Wade, dear ..." Barbara Jo began.

"Ground Control to Load ..." Jim and Tim said in unison.

_Wade, can't you see Monique's ready to rip your head off?_

"Okay, okay, okay," Wade said defeated. "I messed up. I'm sorry."

"So ..." Ron said in the resulting uneasy silence, "it's okay with me if he wants to come over. Mom?"

"I don't see why not. It would be nice for Mariko to spend as much time with Justin as possible." Barbara Jo agreed.

"Are you sure, Ron?" Monique asked earnestly. "The boy will NOT sleep. He'll probably keep you and Mariko up all night! And you have that long trip tomorrow."

"Hey," Ron said breezily, "we can sleep on the planes back. It's no big."

An awkward lightness was felt in the room after Ron spoke his best friend's old motto. But there was a relief in the silence too. It was almost as if an unseen and unspoken pressure had been released from everyone's chest

It also struck Kim as the perfect cue for her to check on how the kids were doing in the kitchen.

As she left the dinning room, she heard Ron, almost sounding like his old self, reassuring Monique, "It'll be coolio! _We_ don't have any ghosts."

III.

The goodbyes at her parents' front door were emotionally agonizing for Kim.

Her brothers, her friends, her parents. She had no idea when or if she would ever see them again. And, of course, the fact that no one could hear her farewells to them made the partings all the more unbearable. Still, she felt the need to try. Unfortunately, no sooner was she within a reasonably close distance to a loved one that someone else's keening would be impinging upon her. After attempting three successive times to bid good-bye to her parents, Kim realized there was no way she could be alone with _anyone_ to give them a proper farewell.

_Why am trying? They don't even know I'm here …_

Finally, unable to control her spiraling emotions, Kim sprinted into the darkness of the yard beyond the penumbra of the house lights. There, she could wait out the numerous separations and cry.

_Besides, Mariko is already sad enough. She doesn't need to see me lose it, too._

When Kim warily made it back to Barbara Jo's SUV, she discovered that Mariko had had her booster seat moved to the middle of the back seat, so she could sit next to Justin. This worked out very well for Kim; she had been worried that if _she_ ended up in the middle, she might not have been able to avoid the keening that would, of course, be emanating from the little boy.

As she slid into the seat and folded her legs underneath her, Kim gave one last look at her parents waving goodbye from the doorway and sighed. Immediately, she felt the tender warmth of her friend's hand on her wrist.

"It'll be okay, Rufina, it'll be okay." Mariko said wiping her own watery eyes with the back of her other hand.

IV.

As they turned onto Ron's street, it began raining again. Big, fat drops slapped against the windshield.

"Drat!" Barbara Jo groused, "It couldn't have waited a few more minutes for us to get home." After a few seconds of silence, she said gently to Ron, "I really wish the weather had been nice a least one day while you were here."

"It's okay, mom," Ron said. The deflated, dead tone of his voice immediately depressed Kim.

Suddenly, a feeling overtook Kim that something was definitely _off_. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but it was undeniable. It wasn't something bad, not really. It wasn't something wrong exactly, either. Just _off_.

This ineffable sensation stayed with her for the rest of the ride back and pursued her as she hurriedly followed the others into the house. And even though she was able to push it to the back of her mind as she watched Mariko show Justin around the house, it was still very much with her. Something had happened, something quite recent, something important. And she had missed it.

_But what?_

Although Justin had not brought his toothbrush or pajamas with him, Barbara Jo was able to accommodate their guest with an unopened toothbrush from one of Ron's long-ago Dental Health Month kicks and one of his old hockey jerseys as a nightshirt.

The wave of melancholic nostalgia the garment produced from Kim was quickly counter-balanced by delight once Justin pulled it over his head. He looked adorably ridiculous in it. It looked like an extremely long dress, and Mariko even told him it looked very "pretty" on him. Almost as if he was demonstrating that he didn't feel self-conscious in his "nightgown," Justin spun around so the ends of the shirt billowed and twirled like a real dress. Justin smiled as Barbara Jo and Mariko laughed.

After brushing her teeth and putting on her white sleeping kimono, a very tired Mariko suggested playing a game with Justin before they went to sleep. Justin, who seemed wide awake, eagerly nodded his agreement.

Barbara Jo reminded Mariko that she had to get up early and not to stay up _too_ late. She turned down the bed for the kids, and transferred a blanket and a pillow to the floor for Ron. She kissed Mariko and wished her, Justin, and Rufus pleasant dreams and left the room.

"Let's play this," Mariko said, taking a package of playing cards form her daddy's dresser.

"Hey, that's my Old Maid game," Kim exclaimed.

"Uh huh," Mariko nodded as she rubbed her eyes. "Daddy borrowed it from your room, and we played it one night when Rufus was sick." She turned to Justin, who was taking her conversation with her invisible friend very much in stride, "do you know how to play, Justin?"

He did. And very well too because he became rather confused when Mariko prompted him to take one of her cards by saying "Go fish."

Kim couldn't help laughing aloud at this unexpected "Ronnerism."

Kim, through gentle giggles, explained to Mariko's confused look that only her daddy said "Go fish" while playing Old Maid, but that it was okay to do it. It was certainly okay with Justin; he seemed to enjoy the nuance very much, and he always smiled when Mariko uttered the phrase.

As Kim watched the end of the first game from her perch on the dresser, she found it telling how comfortable Justin felt speaking aloud to Mariko when he assumed that he and she were alone. She mused that if the little boy spent more time around her, perhaps, he could become that confident around everyone.

Then, suddenly, Kim realized that whatever important event she had missed earlier in the evening had occurred during dinner. She didn't know why she felt that way, but she knew it was right. However, this revelation didn't resolve anything; it only made the sitch all the more annoying.

_But what was it? Aaargh!_

Justin won the first game. Midway through the second, Mariko started to yawn. The late hour and the soothing beat of the rain on the roof were proving stronger than the excitement of having her first sleepover. Kim could tell it wouldn't be long before her friend would be out and snoring. A glance at Justin, however, told her the little boy could easily stay up for another two hours at least.

_Waitaminute ... where's Ron?_

Kim realized that she hadn't seen him since they had first gotten back to the house. At least forty minutes had passed, and she hadn't so much as heard his voice. His weary tone from the car came back to her. She began to worry.

Although it looked as if Mariko might not finish the second game, she did hold on. And she won. "I think we should go to sleep now, Justin," she said, suppressing another yawn.

He smiled, said "Okay," and then energetically climbed under the covers at the head of the bed.

Mariko gently carried Rufus to his cage and placed the drowsy mole rat on his bed of wood shavings. "Good night, Rufus," she said as she closed his cage door.

"Good night, Rufus," Justin whispered from the bed.

Kim hopped off the edge of the dresser and gave her friend a tight hug as the little girl made her way back to the bed. "Good night, sweetheart."

Mariko kissed her shoulder and said, "Good night, Rufina."

Justin, admirably accustomed to Mariko's invisible friend, whispered, "Good night, Rufina."

"Goodnight, Justin," Kim smiled back to him as she and Mariko ended their embrace.

She watched her friend clamber into Ron's bed and pull up the covers. Her snoring began soon after. Kim looked over at Justin. He was good-naturedly lying on his pillow, but his eyes were frenetically looking about the room. She wondered if the little boy would have more trouble with his fear of ghosts or with Mariko's snores.

_Poor kid. Good luck, Justin._

Kim stared out the bedroom door, now completely black since Barbara Jo had shut off the hall light when she left for bed. Her concern for Ron had now become her biggest worry, easily superseding in her thoughts on the whateveritwas that she had missed during dinner. Kim gave the kids one more warm glance and then headed out into the darkness to find her best friend.

V.

The blackness Kim discovered in the hallway was complete.

There was no light coming from beneath Barbara Jo's door or any of the other doors. Looking down the hallway toward the staircase gave her an eerie feeling. She shot a look back into Ron's room, but everything seemed normal in that brightly lit space. Markio was still snoring. And so was Rufus. However, Justin was now sitting up bed, but he looked perfectly happy, just wide awake.

As Kim pressed on through the darkness, the intensity of the rain upon the roof seemed to increase exponentially. The sound of the wind picked up. Coming down the stairs, she caught the reflected dial of the lonely clock above the living room hutch.

_No way! It can't be that late!_

It didn't seem possible that it was already after midnight. Either the clock was wrong, or sometime during her walk down the hall, Kim had "blacked out" again.

As she reached the ground floor, Kim immediately became aware that the rain had become much, much louder. And the air was damp. Was there a window open?

The light reflected on the clock's face and the sound of the rain led her to the same place. One of the French doors to the porch was ajar, and the flood light was turned on. She had found Ron.

He was standing in the back yard, soaked to the bone.

Kim squeezed her way through the open doorway and hurried into the rain. The drops swirled about her, but like the snowflakes had a week earlier, they did not touch her. For a handful of fleeting seconds, Kim entertained the notion that perhaps Ron could make out her outline in the rain, that perhaps he could indirectly see her framed by the storm. One look in his eyes, however, dispelled the fantasy.

Nothing in his eyes conveyed anything other than deep, complete sightless grief.

The rain was coming down so rapidly, so relentlessly against Ron's face that Kim couldn't be sure if he was crying or not.

She stood in front of him for five minutes, only looking at him and trying not to cry herself. He blinked a couple of times, but otherwise did not move. He was facing the southern end of the yard. It was the same direction as her house, but Kim didn't care to think about that or to attribute any other meaning to the moment.

He might have been thinking about her, thinking about not wanting to return to Japan, or even grieving for Yori. But she couldn't know, and it didn't matter.

What mattered was that Ron was in distress and needed help. And that she couldn't give any.

_Please, God. Please, just one time … just this once. Let him know he's not alone._

Gingerly, slowly, Kim stretched out her right arm. As the rain beaded around her hand, as her arm bridged the dark gulf between them, her hopes rose slightly.

_Maybe, just maybe …_

Her fingers were two inches from his chest, three inches from his heart, when the keening began once more.

Kim looked away, bit her lip, and slowly brought her arm back and placed it against her chest. She counted the beats of her heart and then looked steadfast at Ron's grief-stricken face.

She stayed that way, motionless, until he finally dropped his head and turned back to the house. She followed his soggy footsteps inside. And she watched him with helpless compassion as he stumbled to bed through the house's inner darkness once he had shut out his only remaining light.

VI.

When she had warned Ron at dinner about having Justin sleep over, Monique had neglected to mention exactly _how_ her son would keep everyone awake.

Fortunately, this didn't end up mattering because he didn't keep anyone awake that night. Once Ron and Kim made it back to the room, the little boy was sleeping soundly next to Mariko.

However, Justin's insomnia was importantly peripatetic in nature. Unlike many sleepless children who kept their siblings and parents awake with incessant chatter, Justin … walked. It wasn't exactly nervous pacing … rather it was nervous _journeying_. Justin was not simply walking off anxious energy; he was walking with specific destinations in mind.

In effect, Justin tried to overcome his fear of ghosts by making sure there weren't any around. To do this, he had to look through every room thoroughly and completely. Turning on the lights was not enough to prove a room was ghost-free. In fact, Justin believed that ghosts preferred having the lights on, so he always kept them off to be safe. Needless to say, this made ghost searching slow work—work that could, depending on the home, last an entire night.

Since the Rentons' townhouse had hardwood floors, most of which were creaky, Justin's missions created some problems. The creaking of the boards beneath his feet kept his parents awake and, ironically, made the home seem even spookier than it had before Justin's ghost missions began.

The main problem, however, was that no sooner had Justin made a successful "ghost sweep" and was back in bed that he would either hear a noise or _think_ he heard a noise that would spook him out again. And then he would have to start another sweep to ease these new fears. This cycle of terror inevitably lasted until dawn or until Justin's mother forced him to sleep in their bed-for some reason, the ghosts were afraid of Monique.

However, even being snuggled between his parents didn't guarantee a good night's sleep for the little boy. The reason was because Monique could not keep her son safe from the ghosts _inside his head_. Although Justin sincerely feared the ghosts lurking in the hallways, closets, and bedrooms, he had never actually seen one ... not out in the world. However, he had seen them, several times, on the undersides of his eyelids.

And only the sleepy bugs could chase _those_ away.

A little before midnight, Justin sat up in bed. He did not want to wake up Mariko, but he knew he had to do at least one "ghost sweep" if he had a hope of ever getting to sleep. Carefully, he inched from underneath the blankets and slowly crawled off the end of the bed. Fortunately, his movements hadn't stirred his friend in the least. She was still snoring away quite soundly.

Since Mariko had thoughtfully given him a tour of her Bubbe's home, Justin already had a pretty good idea of its layout. A foot into the darkened hall, he paused for a moment or two to let his eyes adjust to the extreme darkness. As they did and he took in the doors that lined both sides of the hallway, he sighed. The house was so much bigger than his. It was going to take a very long time to make sure it was ghost-free. He approached the first door on his left and turned the knob; it was a linen closet. No ghosts, but the hinges made an awfully loud creaking sound. In fact, it was so loud that he feared it had woken Mariko. He ran back to the bedroom to make sure she was still asleep.

Fortunately, she was, but the noise had woken Rufus. Justin stroked his head through the bars until the little guy snuggled back into the shavings and started to snore.

Justin resolved not to open any more doors. He would just give the house an abrupt walk-through, maybe two, but that would be it. He was a guest in someone else's home. Ghosts or no ghosts, he wasn't going to risk waking anyone else up.

As he walked down the stairs, Justin began to realize how much he liked Mariko's Bubbe's house. Not only did it have carpeted (and therefore non-creaky) floors, but it had a cozy feel to it. No sooner had he thought this that he reached the bottom of the stairs and realized that it _wasn't_ so cozy after all. Actually, the air in the living room felt wet. Then he noticed the beating of the rain and, as he turned toward the sound, he saw that a back door had been left open.

As he approached the door, Justin looked through its glass panes and saw Mariko's dad standing out in the yard, out in the rain and … and …

For the next few minutes, Justin did not move. He barely took a breath. All he could do was stare.

Finally, he blinked.

With serious determination, Justin turned around and walked back the way he had come. He headed back up the stairs, walked quickly through the hall, and entered the bedroom. As carefully and as quickly as he could, he got back into bed and snuggled beneath the covers. Despite the rapid beating of his heart, he felt extremely at ease … almost as if … he was actually sleepy.

Sure enough, when Justin closed his eyes, there they were: sleepy bugs. He remembered how his mother had first explained what the multi-colored dots were when he was three years old. He smiled at the memory.

Despite the wave of drowsiness that overtook him, Justin couldn't completely shake the sense of excitement that tingled through him. It almost felt like Christmas Eve. But, no, this feeling was much, much bigger than that.

Bigger and strange.

Justin would have never dreamed that his terrible fear of ghosts would vanish once he actually saw one.

With buzzing pleasure, he replayed the memory a few times in his mind.

Only visible by a blurry outline of rain that beaded and splashed about it, the ghost had been standing a foot or two in front of Mariko's dad. Slowly, gently it had reached out for him and then suddenly, sadly pulled back its arm. And then it kept standing there … almost as if it was keeping Mariko's dad company or trying to convince him to come in out of the rain.

It was something that should have scared the life out of him. But it didn't. Strangely, it made him feel the exact opposite of fear-the sensation of not being alone.

And when the little boy closed his eyes and thought once again of the ghost and its extending arm, he felt an inexplicably gentle and warm sensation flutter in his stomach. The flutter traveled up through his body until it reached his head. And then Justin Renton fell into the deepest, most pleasant, and most complete sleep he had ever known.

* * *

**This ends Book I of "Kim Possible: The End."  
**

* * *

**A/N:** A very special **BOOYAH** with much thanks and gratitude to **whitem** (of ff.net fame) for inspiring sections V. and VI.


	12. Eleven

**Book II**

I did not know what achievements, what mockery, even what tortures still awaited me.  
I knew nothing, and I persisted in the faith that the time of cruel miracles was not past.

\- Stanislaw Lem, _Solaris_

* * *

I.

Kim became aware of the smell of the rain first, then the sound.

She was outside.

She was lying upon the ground.

Even before her sight returned, a thousand little signs informed her that she was far away from where she once had been.

Her vision faded in slowly. She was inside a fog.

Propping herself up on her left elbow, Kim could see she was on a plot of stone. Dried grey vines, burst shrunken seed pods, and shriveled umber petals encircled her, scattered about the rock face like so much litter. Hesitantly, she stood.

Sheets of rain spread evenly through the cumulus mists that silently collided about her on every side. The rain beaded about her form. Some drops glistened like silver sparks before falling to the dull rocky surface at her feet. Yet, the grey haze that encompassed her was not complete; it grew thin near the pinnacle of her visibility, say, one hundred yards above, for she could clearly make out the peaks of nearby mountains, black with rain.

_No, wait, it-it's thinning._

No sooner had this realization crossed her mind that the fog banks parted and rolled back before her like heavy curtains before a dew-shrouded window. Not five feet in front of her, marshaled behind by high chasm walls, was a small, oblong pool fringed by pale-colored grass. The rain rolled in waves across the small clearing and the pool. It was difficult to judge how deep the basin was because the water was uniformly, perfectly black.

"Mariko?" Kim called. The loneliness in her voice was apparent as its echoes reverberated along the stone walls.

As her glances measured the heights of the jagged, slate cliffs, Kim's eyes were suddenly drawn to the pool. Its surface was churning with the multitudinous drops of the still driving ran. And floating upon this turbulent, black-onyx surface was a small flower.

Cream petals, edged in palatinate, ringed a pale yellow center.

Although it was pelted by the constant rain, the blossom did not totter, nor did the delicate petals crimple under the weight of the drops. The flower gently twirled clockwise as it glided toward the middle of the small pond.

Transfixed, but not exactly-not completely, upon the solitary flower, Kim watched its slow journey amid the small, mutinous waves. The sight depressed her. She felt despondent and helpless.

Her attention lagged as she turned her thoughts, once more, to Mariko and Ron.

And she felt so cold.

She was about to cry out to the little girl again when the noise of the rain increased ten-fold. The musty smell from the fog, or perhaps it was emanating from the pool, became overpowering. She reflexively covered her mouth. As she did so, she noticed that the flower, still unharmed, had made it to the center of the pool, a center that was, despite the rain, deathly still and clear.

_Wait ..._

Despite the storm, despite the dank odor that shrouded everything, a hint of the flower's wafting scent reached Kim. She had time to process one thought and to mouth the flower's name before she disappeared.

II.

The rain was constant. Otherwise, everything was different.

The pale grey of the sky had been coated with soot-dipped clouds. Perhaps it was just before sundown. Perhaps sunrise, but Kim doubted that—it didn't feel right.

She was standing in a high mountain pass. Either side of the narrow pathway was hedged with dripping evergreens with dull, almost grey, needles. It was not raining as hard as earlier, but it was very difficult for her to see.

She hugged her shoulders. Although the rain continued its safe two-inch distance from her body, a handful of damp chills rippled through her chest.

She imagined the pathway led to Yamanouchi. More than likely, if she followed it as it curved along the treacherous rise before her, she would arrive at the school. Behind her, the path emptied into a small clearing. Fog had begun to coat this small field's pale vegetation. Kim felt compelled to stay where she was.

As the minutes dragged by, the sky darkened and the colors of her surroundings became duller, murkier.

As she watched a rolling cloud bank slowly consume the clearing, she made out a small white figure moving within the immense whiteness. For a second, the silly notion flashed in Kim's mind that she was watching a ghost.

"Rufina!" the figure cried as it sprinted toward her.

"Sweetheart!" Kim called as she ran toward the little girl.

"Mariko, Mariko!" Ron's voice called firmly.

Kim was on one knee embracing her friend, trying to gather the warmth of her small body into her own freezing form. As she recognized the fading fragrance of Ron's mother's shampoo in the little girl's hair, she looked up and saw Ron hurrying towards them. He was wearing his gi, their meager bags slung over his shoulder, and was carrying an oddly-shaped umbrella.

"Rufina made it!" Mariko said spinning happily to face her father.

"Good, good," Ron said somewhat absently. He continued in a more urgent tone, "You have to stay by my side, honey. Stay under the umbrella. You're going to get soaking wet." He reached for and gently stroked his daughter's shoulder. His eyes, however, seemed lost in the surrounding woods.

Kim followed his furtive glances. Nothing stuck out, but, yes, she could sense something was _not right_ about this spot. Something had changed and quite recently too. The same trees and rocks that had only struck her as gloomy a few minutes earlier possessed a decidedly sinister cast now.

"Let's listen to your daddy," Kim said seriously. "We want to keep you safe."

Mariko nodded to this somber pronouncement.

As Kim got back to her feet, she lightened the mood with a smile and a small peck on the little girl's nose.

Swiftly, Kim walked a tight circle about Ron and his daughter. She shook her head against the annoying buzz of the keening when she stepped too close to Ron, but she kept her eyes fixed on their surroundings.

Again, she didn't sense any immanent danger behind the nearby boulders or between the dark trees. Yet something was definitely not right. She needed to secure their perimeter.

' _Secure the perimeter'? Ha! What can you do, Possible?_

She honestly didn't know what she could do. Still, being in mission mode made Kim feel slightly better. True, she couldn't _do_ anything herself, couldn't even warn Ron. But, perhaps, if she spotted the danger in time, she could warn Ron through Mariko.

As Ron took up his daughter's right hand, Kim took her left.

Holding his umbrella out as if it were a shield, Ron led them along the precarious path toward the jagged peaks in the northern distance.

III.

Mariko was bubbling over with excitement. She so wanted to tell Kim everything that had happened in the last couple of days. There had been so many adventures! The plane from Denver being hit by lightning, the unexpected overnight stay in the hotel in Los Angeles, the Zero candy bar her father bought her on the flight into Tokyo with his last little bit of money, the helicopter to Yamanouchi running out of gas, and, of course, the ghost that Justin had seen at her Bubbe's house!

An eager look at her best friend, however, convinced Mariko to stay quiet ... at least for a while. The serious expression on Kim's face mirrored her father's. This was definitely _not_ the time.

IV.

Kim kept a piercing vigil upon everything on her side of the trail. As the rocky path wound further into the mountains, the forest thinned and the scattered rocks were no longer large enough to hide potential attackers. Finally, that side dropped away altogether when the path curved around the edge of the mountain. On the one hand, this was fortunate because the encroaching night had reduced her visibility to barely ten feet. At the same time, she didn't like Mariko being so close to such a perilous drop. She increased her grip on the little girl's hand. Apparently, the concern struck Ron at almost the same moment. He stopped and switched hands with Mariko, placing himself at the cliff's edge. Kim anticipated the move and switched to the child's other side without hearing much keening.

After setting herself on Mariko's right, Kim glanced at Ron. She caught her breath. He looked _so_ different than she had expected him to look. He looked older, determined, mature, in control. He looked ... like an adult.

_Why am I only noticing this now?_

Perhaps it was because her first few days at Yamanouchi had been a whirlwind of shocks and tears. Perhaps Ron had seemed unsure and out-of-step when they were back in Middleton. Perhaps. But as she watched him lead them across the rocky trail Kim finally began to appreciate what the previous eight years had done to Ron. He reminded her of an older brother she never had. This was a strange thought when she reflected on her buffed-up, older _little_ brothers.

The fact was she was still seventeen and Ron was twenty-five. In a strange way, that made her feel almost like Mariko's big sister and that he was their father, guiding and protecting them through the night.

_No, no, Possible. That's_ _**way** _ _too weird._

And although she hated thinking about the events that placed him in that gi, a part of her could not deny how much it seemed to suit him, to complement his current role as his little girl's guide and protector. And when she recalled his stoic defiance of Sensei as he defended Mariko on that second day, her second day, nothing could hold back the pride she felt for the man he had become. She was still determined to provide whatever early warning she could to Mariko, nevertheless, she knew she could relax, at least somewhat. Her best friend had the sitch well in hand.

It was in this confident state of mind that Kim asked, in a low whisper, the question she had been meaning to ask for some time.

"Sweetheart, didn't you and your daddy fly out in a helicopter when you left Yamanouchi?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko whispered back with a nod. She seemed very pleased, almost relieved, that Kim had broken the silence.

"Well, why didn't you fly back in one?"

"Oh, we did, but it ran out of gas."

"Ran out of gas?" That seemed extremely odd.

"Uh-huh. We didn't even make it to the mountain."

"So that means ..."

"It is our honor to walk," Mariko smiled.

"Yes," Ron said, "it is." Maybe it was because he was still in "mission mode," but Kim detected a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in Ron's voice as he agreed with his daughter. Perhaps even some sadness.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light at Kim's left shoulder. Shielding her eyes with her hand, she saw a small lantern hanging from the center of Ron's umbrella.

_Was that there before?_

The more she examined the umbrella the stranger it seemed. Had the lantern always been there? She hadn't seen Ron attach it, and she certainly hadn't seen him light it. What's more, the umbrella seemed slightly larger than when she had first seen it as he ran out of that fog bank twenty minutes earlier.

The incline in the trail was getting rather steep, and its floor was getting much, much rockier. As the trio continued up the mountain, the pathway, at two or three points, practically vanished amid clumps of slippery and jagged slate. Kim extended her left arm in these spots, gently edging Mariko closer to her father and farther away from the lacerating stone outcroppings that jutted from the mountain wall.

Finally, the wall gave way to a jumbled field of stone. Kim realized they must have reached the peak of the mountain. The rain had let up, but the night sky was still overcast; the clouds were the same color as the stones beneath them. At about the time the path began to curve downward, Kim spotted the figure.

About four feet tall, it was standing rigidly still on a rock just at the edge of the path. Since Ron, still very much on the alert, had not reacted to it, Kim paid it no attention. Well, relatively little attention … at first. But as they drew nearer, Kim found herself staring at it.

It was a much lighter shade of grey than the stone it was perched upon, almost white as a matter of fact. Kim therefore assumed that the statue had been transported to its current post on the mountain top … possibly from a great distance.

_Definitely wouldn't want that job._

She sighed as she made out what it was. It was a monkey. A monkey wearing some sort of armor. Something she vowed she would never ever get in this (or any other) lifetime was Mystical Monkey Power. The entire thing seemed incomprehensible to her. And, well, silly.

Within ten feet of the figure, about the point where it fell within the penumbra of light from Ron's swinging lantern, Kim noticed it was a statue of a long-haired monkey, and the armor's design was vaguely like one of a Samurai warrior. In fact, it had a sheathed Samurai sword on its left hip. Like the scores of monkey idols she and Ron had run across during their missions, this figure was patently ridiculous and, at the same time, a bit uncanny as well. Actually, very uncanny. She suppressed a shiver.

As they moved closer and she, thanks to the swinging light, was able to get a better look at the thing, Kim was astonished by the detail carved into its pale surface. The ornate filigree of the armor and the etched wrinkles in the face were so lavish that it actually hurt a little to look at them. And the monkey's hair! She could see that the hundreds of visible hairs had been _individually chiseled_ from the limestone (or whatever stone it was composed of). The amount of time it would have taken someone to complete such a task boggled her mind. By comparison, the figure's eyes were not so elaborate. Mere circles with deep pits carved in their centers. Yet, for some reason they unnerved Kim the most.

She found them inexplicably hideous. They reminded her of a rather campy haunted house movie she and Ron had watched when they were in elementary school. Specifically, there was a large portrait of a woman in the house's main hall whose eyes had been removable cut-outs through which the villain had been able to spy on the likable, yet clumsy, hero. Even though she found the rest of the movie stupid and definitely not scary, she had been unnerved by the portrait's eyes. Perhaps this was because the hero reminded her somewhat of Ron, and she didn't like the idea of anyone spying on him. Regardless of the reason, the monkey's eyes brought her right back to that cobweb-draped picture.

As they passed directly in front of the figure, Kim felt compelled to look into the eyes again. They were so much worse than the ones in movie. Kim just _knew_ the eyes were fakes. And for some reason she suspected that behind them lay another set of eyes that were also dummies. And behind those another set, and another. How many sets of eyes? She didn't even want to contemplate that; yet, she knew that the holes drilled in each set lined up perfectly with all the others. Whose real eyes lay behind this long chain of false ones? Sensei's? Or no one's? She could not explain why, but this second possibility upset her far more than the first.

Taking into account this disturbing train to her thoughts, it was easy to understand why Kim cried out when the figure flashed into living color and began to move.

V.

Her cry elicited a startled scream from Mariko.

As Kim turned reflexively toward the little girl to gather her up in her arms, a flash of blue lightning blinded her and the horrible keening rang in her ears. Shaking the pain from her temples, she found herself, quite suddenly, on her rear a few feet from Mariko and Ron.

Ron had sprung in between his daughter and had inadvertently brushed Kim to the ground. He was now brandishing a sword in the same hand that had been holding the umbrella a few seconds before. He quickly stepped toward the monkey, a malevolent, determined look in his eyes. However, the armored monkey held his ground, bared his teeth at Ron, and fingered the handle of its sheathed sword.

Surprisingly, however, it chose not to attack him. With the exception of the disdainful looks he was giving the young ninja and the drumming of his fingers upon his weapon's handle, the monkey remained completely still.

"Get behind me, Mariko," Ron ordered tersely.

The little girl did as she was told.

By this time, Kim had scrambled to her feet and, as much as the keening would allow her, stepped between Mariko and her father.

"What is it?" Mariko asked in terrified whisper.

"I don't know," Kim and Ron whispered back.

_How do you not know what it is Ron? Didn't you see it before?_

"J-jinx," Mariko managed after a few tense seconds.

"Huh?" Ron said losing his concentration for a fraction of a second. He shook his head. And then asked, "What was it, honey?"

 _What_ was _it, Ron? It's still right there! Whatareyou-_

"I-I don't know," Mariko answered, looking expectantly up at Kim.

Suddenly, a blue tongue of flame erupted from the handle to the tip of Ron's sword, its light illuminated a good fifty square feet. This act brought two revelations home to Kim. One, she realized that the sword Ron was wielding was the Lotus Blade. Ron had told her about its shape-shifting and otherwise mystical properties junior year, but this was the first time she had ever seen the sword, had ever been witness to the power possessed by the Chosen One.

The second discovery made her skin crawl. The iridescent glow from the sword made plain that there were at least a dozen more monkey samurai scattered across the rocky slope before them. How long had they been crouching there in the darkness?

"This is so not good," Kim said gravely as she hugged the little girl close to her and hoped the powers of the Lotus Blade would be enough.

"What? What isn't good, Rufina?" Mariko stammered, "I mean, what isn't so not good?"

Kim looked down at her friend in bewilderment.

"Mariko!" Ron said testily, as he cut at the air mere feet from the first Samurai's face. The monkey edged back from the flames a few inches, but it was obvious he did not see Ron as a real threat and held him in utter contempt. All the beasts were holding their ground; however, none of them seemed like they intended on pouncing upon the travelers as Kim had initially feared.

"What did you see?" Ron asked harshly.

"I don't know," Mariko said on the verge of tears. "Rufina, what did you see?"

 _Oh my God!_ The simple, obvious fact stunned Kim. _They can't see them!_

"Rufina?" Ron asked in hopeless frustration.

"Y-yes, daddy." Mariko nodded.

"So _you_ didn't actually see anything?"

"No, daddy," Mariko admitted.

Every word of Ron and Mariko's exchange made Kim feel smaller and smaller.

The flame on the sword went out.

In the silent moments of darkness that followed, Kim struggled in vain to find mental solid ground. The fear she had inspired in Mariko, the trouble she gotten the little girl into, Ron's anger, not to mention the restrained, for now, threat from that horde of hideous monkeys all swirled within her making her feel as utterly helpless as she had been that first day in Mariko's cell. She held the girl tightly, and whispered "I'm sorry" a few times. But the embrace and her apologies did nothing to alleviate the oppressive silence she felt emanating from the child.

"Come on, honey," Ron voice broke through the night gently. "You're tired. Let's go home."

Just as the keening started, Kim released Mariko and let Ron take his daughter's hand. A flash of blue and the blade returned to being the umbrella with the swinging lantern. As Kim stood up despondently, she saw the monkey bare his teeth at Ron and Mariko.

A surge of violent energy rushed through Kim, and she marched resolutely toward the simian. She waved her hand rudely in its face and snapped her fingers mere inches from its nose.

There was no keening. Up until that moment every living thing she had come into contact with other than Mariko had given off that hideous shrieking. Did that mean that the monkey warrior wasn't alive, that it was an inanimate object? Could she touch it?

The beast paid Kim no mind whatsoever; he merely looked after Ron and Mariko as they headed down the path. Its pitch eyes, set deep in its blood red face, followed them for a few seconds, and then the creature flashed back into the guise of the pale statuary.

Her anger subsiding, Kim felt the helplessness return. She stared out into the now-darkened slope, but she was not seeking out the demons she knew were hiding there. She was just staring.

The warm brush of Mariko's reaching fingertips on the outside of Kim's hand brought her back from the gulf.

VI.

The entire walk down the mountainside Kim couldn't look at Mariko. Although it had been an honest mistake, that didn't change the fact that she had gotten her friend into trouble a second time. Who knew how often this was going to happen?

The shame and helplessness she felt was only compounded when distant lights and an outline of a fortress broke through the jagged trees up ahead.

_Yamanouchi._

They were almost "home." Couldn't she somehow have prevented this? She was Kim Possible, why couldn't she have saved Ron and his daughter? How could she have let Ron go back to Middleton and not stopped him from returning to this horrible place? Maybe if she hadn't "blacked out" so frequently and had had the full two weeks to be with them, maybe if there hadn't been so much drama with her family and … and …

_And nothing, Possible. You failed. You failed them._

"Rufina?" Mariko whispered.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Kim said hopefully. She glanced Mariko's way, but the girl's face was hidden in shadow.

_At least she's still talking to me._

"What scared you?" the little girl asked, concern evident in her voice.

"I'll tell you about it later." Kim whispered back kindly.

"Was it something bad?"

Reflexively, Kim almost said "no." Her eyes had been playing tricks on her. It was nothing Mariko needed to worry about or some other well-intentioned, placating lie.

"I'm not sure what it was," she answered, which _was_ true. "But I think so. Yeah." Which was also true.

Mariko squeezed Kim's hand. And Kim returned the squeeze.

"Honey?" Ron spoke gently.

"Yes, Daddy?" Mariko asked.

Ron stopped walking and lowered the umbrella. The rain had been tapering off for the last few minutes and had finally just stopped. Kim watched in amazement as the umbrella with its attendant lantern changed into a staff with a larger lantern attached to one end. Mariko gave the magical transformation no notice whatsoever. Her eyes were fixed upon her father's face.

Kim hopped aside as he bent down and lifted up his little girl in the cradle of his left arm.

"Daddy's really sorry he got angry at you." He said slowly, not making eye contact.

"I know, Daddy."

"I was … I got upset and I was so afraid something might happen to you." His voice was cracking. Not much, but enough to notice.

Mariko twisted around slightly in his grip.

"Whoa … what're ya doing?" Ron said trying not to drop her.

Mariko leaned over and knocked her fist against the knuckles of Ron's hand that was holding the lantern. "No big," she said and then snuggled back into his shoulder.

Despite her deep melancholy, guilt, and anxiety, Kim couldn't help but smile at the sheer Ronnishness of their reconciliation.

"You're something else, spunky monkey," Ron smiled. "Ready to go home?"

She hesitated for a fraction of a second and then nodded.

He leaned over and kissed her on her ear.

"Hey!" She complained, rubbing her ear. "Not so loud, Daddy!"

"My bad," he apologized. He lifted the staff and started walking again.

Mariko hugged her father's neck and then turned so she could look back over his shoulder at Kim tracing their steps.

As the fortress loomed larger and larger in the shrinking distance, Mariko began yawning. Kim smiled as she watched the little girl's eyes droop and finally close. Only after hearing Mariko's snores, muffled on her father's shoulder, did Kim dare to speak.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry."

VII.

Although the little girl's snores made it extremely difficult to pay close attention to every noise in the forest, they also heightened Kim's senses and her awareness for the brief lull periods between the snores. The feeling of unease had been decreasing ever since they crossed the peak of the mountain. Even Ron seemed to be a little less on the alert. Perhaps it was because of the weather. Not only had the rain stopped, but the fog had also rolled away. Kim shot a brief glance at the sky and was pleasantly surprised to see a star framed within a small break in the clouds.

Then a strange thing happened. Not a minute after Kim noticed the first star, she glanced up again and was startled to see an entire field of them. The clouds were moving off quite fast. A whistle in the high evergreens suggested that strong gusts were blowing the storm away. Such a sudden change in the weather wasn't all that strange; in fact, Kim reflected, in high altitudes that was the norm. And it was a favorable change at that. No, what was strange was how miserable it suddenly made her feel.

For some reason, the night sky, heavy with the brilliant twinkle from thousands of stars, felt oppressive. Maybe, it was because they looked different without that astounding moon that she had seen weeks earlier. Maybe, it was because they weren't her stars.

_But they are! We're still in the Northern Hemisphere. They're the same stars that shine over Middleton._

But they didn't feel that way. Somehow the fact that they were getting closer and closer to Ron's cell changed the stars, made them seem different ... seem wrong. These were the stars he had lived beneath for the past seven years. The years he lived with Yori. Perhaps, they had wished upon these stars together after she had been killed. Perhaps ... perhaps, Yori had wished upon them before-

"Aaaaargh!" she groused aloud. "Get those thoughts out of your head, Possible!" She had momentarily forgotten that although Ron couldn't hear her, the little girl on his shoulder could. Mariko was a pretty sound sleeper, but not _that_ sound.

"What's wrong, Rufina?" Mariko asked sleepily.

"Shhh, honey," Ron whispered. "Go back to sleep. We're almost home. We're almost home."

Thankfully, Mariko was so worn out that before Kim could even begin to explain the reason for her outburst she was snoring again.

Once more, Kim looked up into the tangle of constellations. She sighed. Then salvation entered through the side door.

_They're Mariko's stars, too._

The oppressiveness of the night melted away as Kim imagined her sleeping friend making her own wishes upon the same star-dappled sky.

_Besides, it's the wish, not the stars, that matters._

VIII.

Although it was only the third longest suspension bridge Kim Possible had ever crossed, the crossing of the bridge was among the most nerve-wracking experiences she could ever remember. The chasm it spanned was ridiculously deep-although Kim tried telling herself the "clouds" she spotted half-way down were merely fog banks, she knew better. Twenty yards across, the wind picked up out of nowhere, and the bridged started to sway. Forty yards across, it started to heave and dip. Halfway across, the bridge plummeted ten feet so suddenly that Kim reflexively gripped the guide rope with both hands. Before they were two thirds of the way across, Kim was suffering major bellyflips. The experience was so harrowing that once or twice Kim actually forgot that she was already dead.

But, far and away, the worst part of the crossing was the hideous creak that each and every plank made when Ron stepped upon it. Even when the wind was at its worst, Kim could hear the groaning of the dead wood. Her heart leapt to her throat and stayed there through most of ordeal because she couldn't chase the image of her best friend and his daughter disappearing into the void below in a shower of rotten splinters.

What finally saved her was the moment when they were, perhaps, still forty yards from the other side. It followed another one of those teeth-grinding drops. The jolt was so strong it actually woke up Mariko. The little girl drowsily looked over her father's shoulder and gave the abyss a half glance and then fell back asleep.

It was then that Kim realized that although she had been frazzled the entire time, Ron had been the picture of confidence from the first step. He wasn't even holding the guide ropes. Before crossing, he had transformed the lantern back into the lotus blade and sheathed it, but only so he could hold onto Mariko with both arms. His cool nature was actually quite startling-it had been a rare mission indeed when Ron hadn't been at least a little scared. Maybe it was because he had crossed the bridge dozens of times before ... or maybe he was being the safe harbor for his little girl.

_If they aren't scared, why should I be? Ron knows what he's doing._

Although not quite as ferociously impressive as when he defied Sensei two weeks before, Ron's walk across the bridge was a strong, strong second.

When they finally made it to the other side, Ron let go with one of his deepest sighs, hugged his daughter tightly to his chest, and kissed the top of her head. As loudly as he could without waking his daughter, Ron poured out all his fear in a whisper/yell, "I haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttttte that bridge!"

Kim covered a laugh with her hand and shook her head at her friend. "You still rock, Ron," she said warmly, "you still rock."

Ron marched steadfastly to the immense gate at the fortress/school's entrance. The gate was composed of wood from gigantic timbers, each board in the gate was at least four feet across. Cut out of the gate on its far right was a small entrance door. Ron approached this door and rapped against it and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

_What gives? Shouldn't there be someone up waiting for them? Ron's the Chosen One!_

Ron was none too pleased, either. He knocked again. Louder, sharper.

As they waited in the reproachful silence, Kim noticed a large cone-shaped bell hanging at the top of the gate some thirty yards to their left. A long rope from the bell to the ground dangled in the breeze. When Kim turned back to Ron, he was angrily eyeing the same rope. He knocked on the door again.

After another five minutes, Ron with fury in his face walked toward the rope. He struggled with a way to hold Mariko, ring the bell and still cover her ears so the sound of the bell wouldn't wake the child. In the end he managed this trick by pulling the rope with his teeth. Unfortunately, Mariko still woke up.

"D-daddy?" she said sleepily, clutching her ears. "What's going on?"

Before the chime of the bell could die, the door opened. "Stoppable-san?" an indifferent voice asked.

_You have got to be kidding me!_

Ron jogged over to the opened door, exchanged a slight bow with the man at the gate, and entered.

Kim, her hands on her ears to block the keening, was mere steps behind him. The "attendant" regarded Ron and Mariko absently beneath hooded eyes. She eyed the man darkly as they passed. She was sure he had been waiting there all along.

An expansive courtyard lay on the other side of the gate. It was edged on either side by rows of blooming Cherry Plum trees. Beyond these flowering trees, on both sides of the courtyard, were long white three-storied buildings with majestically tiled roofs that somehow, despite the simple elegance of their style, gave Kim the impression of being "squat." Most of the windows were dark but pale candlelight could be discerned coming from a scattered few.

At the end of the courtyard of the ancient school, directly opposite of the gate, was an immense and towering keep. Its design was ostentatiously ornate, and every window was blindingly lit. Yet there didn't seem to be any activity, any life emanating from inside the structure. At least the dimly lit windows in the side buildings radiated with human warmth, however weak.

Ron carried Mariko toward the far end of the squat building on the left. There was a desolate sense of loneliness about the entire place. It was so quiet and still. Kim turned her head for their "attendant," but he had vanished. The stars did not throw much light upon the green. In fact, at the places where the shadows of the buildings overlapped with those cast by the trees, the ground looked darker than the sky.

Except for the leaves rustling in the evening breeze, there was no sound. The silence felt oppressive. But, no, it wasn't the silence. Not exactly.

_It's the leaves. The sound of the leaves._

As Kim was trying to puzzle out why the wind through the cherry plum trees could cause her such dismay, she heard violent scraping, like nails against stone to her left. A chill ran through her chest as she spotted a Samurai monkey loping across the building's roof. His red face was pointed directly at Ron and Mariko. The clatter was caused by his low-hanging uniform making impact with the tiles of the roof.

_How can Ron not hear that?_

As Ron reached the edge of the field, he stepped between a pair of trees and his head brushed against a low hanging bough. The fluttering shower of blossoms that resulted forced Kim to go around the trunk of an adjacent tree to keep pace with him. Keeping one eye on the simian that glared from the roof, Kim followed her best friend as he disappeared within a dark entranceway at the building's corner. The musty passageway opened up to a shabby central courtyard, crowded with stubby trees and small rock gardens. Screen doorways of small dwellings faced the courtyard from all four sides. Ron walked along a stone path toward a dwelling as unremarkable as the rest.

For the second time in as many minutes, panic griped Kim's heart. Atop a stone lantern, in a rock garden on Ron's left stood another simian Samurai. As soon as Ron and Mariko passed within its line of sight, the statue came alive. Although it did not move from its perch, the animal sucked it teeth menacingly at Kim's friends. For whatever good it might have done, Kim glared at the simian. Her "stare-down" was interrupted when the Samurai turned around to face its brother that was looking down from the roof. They began chattering to one another. The sounds they made were extremely unpleasant.

Ron slid open the cell's door and stepped inside. It was completely pitch black inside. Kim followed quickly behind him. The cell smelled ... moldy, damp, wrong. Although she couldn't make them out in the darkness, Kim could hear Ron and Mariko coughing. She stumbled through the darkness trying to locate them as the terrible thoughts ran through her mind ... were they being overcome with knock-out fumes, poison ...?

Suddenly, the light from a candle threw the tiny room into flickering orange relief. Ron was cursing under his breath as he lit more candles and struggled to open all the room's windows while his daughter stood in the center of the room trying to control her coughing. As Ron lit the third candle, Kim could see well enough to identify the culprit. The rip in the screen Ron had created on her first day was still flapping open, covered in mold spots. It must have been raining for days on the mountain ... perhaps the entire time they were gone. The mildew and mold had infiltrated the dwelling and now the air reeked of their spores.

Again, Kim felt unbridled anger. Why hadn't anyone repaired the damage or, at the very least, looked after the dwelling while they were gone? He was supposed to be one of the school's most esteemed members-the Chosen One!

She pushed her rage aside and kneeled next to Mariko and tried to comfort her. The little girl was sleepy, discombobulated, and upset to the point of tears. Kim's arm on her shoulder was much appreciated.

Outside Kim could hear the obscene chittering of spectral monkeys; inside, her best friend was cursing under his breath while his child struggled though a violent coughing fit.

They were home.

IX.

Opening the windows helped a great deal. Although a cough still escaped her every few minutes or so, it was obvious that the circulation of fresh air was making Mariko feel much, much better.

Still, as she lay on her small matt in her tiny cell facing the ceiling, Mariko's face was lined with concern. Lying next to her propped on an elbow, Kim tried to smooth the furrows in the child's brow with the back of her hand.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Uh huh," Mariko nodded with an attempt at a smile.

"Sleepy?"

Mariko shrugged.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"That bad thing you saw." Mariko answered.

"What about it?" Kim asked after a pause. The screeching of the monkeys outside had died down somewhat but she could still hear them. Although she knew they were not about to attack (if they hadn't in the seclusion of the mountaintop when there was over a dozen of them, why would they now?), the idea of those two creatures keeping tabs on Ron and Mariko filled her with disquiet. She tried not to let this feeling show on her face.

"Are you scared of it?" the little girl asked.

Kim sighed. "I'm worried about it, but I wouldn't say I'm scared … not exactly."

"I'm scared."

Kim took Mariko's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. A small flame had begun burning inside Kim. As the seconds of the night ticked away, it grew, it spread.

"Mariko," Kim said firmly.

The child turned her face from the ceiling and looked in her friend's eyes.

"I don't know what is going on," Kim continued, "but I'm going to find out."

Kim sprang to her feet and went to the cell's open window. She threw a leg over the window's edge. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't wait up." And jumped out into the night.

Mariko rushed to window and looked out. Kim had landed some five feet below the window as the "dormitory" was built on a slight incline. "Be careful, Rufina!" she called down to her.

Kim flashed up a smile. "Thanks, sweetie! But don't worry. I'm already dead, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Mariko smiled remembering.

Before Kim turned to go, she yelled up to the little girl, "I love you, Mariko."

It was hard to tell in the starlight, but the little girl seemed to blush. "I love you too, Rufina."

The fire in Kim's chest compelled her to go. With a quick wave, she took off for the north end of the building. She rounded the side and re-entered the musty entrance the trio had gone through maybe an hour earlier. As she entered the courtyard, she spied the two Samurai squatting in front of Ron and Mariko's door. One of the warriors was picking nits out of the other's back beneath its armor. And eating them.

_Gross._

Just then, Kim heard Ron's voice wishing Mariko a good night. One by one the candle lights extinguished and within a few minutes the dwelling was completely dark.

Immediately after the last light was blown out, both simians turned in Kim's direction and took off on all fours toward the entrance. Kim leaped out of their path and then raced after them.

Although their armor was necessarily slowing them down, the animals tore across the main courtyard so quickly that Kim had a difficult time catching up with them. They were headed for the central complex.

As Kim struggled to keep up, a gentle zephyr wafted across the school. Again, for some reason, the blossoms and the leaves rustling in the evening breeze filled her with a sense of dread.

Then she realized why.

The sound brought back memories of Middleton Park, of the last few moments of her life. It had all ended so quickly. And that was the thought that chilled her.

_Why can't it happen again?_

Her next "blackout" could occur at any time. She had no reason to believe it wouldn't and no assurances that when it did that it wouldn't be forever. The likelihood of her "second life" being cut short as her first had been was a definite possibility.

Although the thought of being separated from Ron and from Mariko for eternity shattered her heart, it wasn't as horrible as the idea of them being trapped in that horrible place for the rest of their lives. No, nothing was worse than that.

With renewed fire, Kim pumped her legs and kept pace with her targets. As she ran, she breathed a tangle of words over and over again. The four words fell into the rhythm of a desperate prayer.

_Please, God … not yet … not yet … God … not yet … please ..._

* * *

_TBC …_

* * *

A/N: Apologies Flann O'Brien/ Myles na gCopaleen/ Jack Hackett/ George Knowall/ Brother Barnabas/ Brian O'Nolan/ Brian Nolan/ Brian Ó Nualláin for the serried eye image in section IV. I stole it from his chilling comic novel _The Third Policeman_.


	13. Twelve

I.

The adrenalin that was pulsing through Kim as she sprinted across the starlit, blossom-strewn courtyard had a strangely calming effect upon her. Under the beat of her breathing and the rustle of the breeze, she recognized a familiar hum or buzzing that was radiating from within her self. She let a brief smile escape.

She was actually excited. The sensation that was branching out from her chest and prickling down to her fingers and along her legs was akin to the pleasant pins-and-needles feeling she used to get whenever the Kimmunicator chirped. As she pursued the samurais into a grove a trees that encircled the Keep's base, Kim reflected that for the first time in what seemed like an eternity she felt _normal_.

Once within the web of shadows created by the dense vegetation, she halted. She couldn't see the simians any longer. She could still _hear_ them, chittering and grunting somewhere up ahead, but they seemed to have vanished. She scanned the shadows beneath the trees as she caught her breath.

_Where are you?_

Mildly distracted by the beating pulse in her temples, Kim spied a flash of shadow ten feet to her left. Just at the edge of the building's foundation one of the samurai was loping up the trunk of one of the thicker trees. Kim made the distance in half the time she expected—the layer of undergrowth, due to her unique physical state, became for her a bridge to walk across rather than an obstacle to trudge through. Once there, she locked her hands around a lower branch, swung her legs about the trunk and started to shimmy up the tree.

Under normal circumstances, the tree would have shifted and swayed under her weight; now, of course, it stayed perfectly still. Once she was able to right herself on the limb, she began making her way through the branches. Although she couldn't see the monkey, she could easily track him by the unpleasant noises he made-always seemingly a few feet ahead. She quickly discovered that she was, for all intents and purposes, weightless. Branches no thicker than a finger easily supported her. The downside, however, was that she couldn't brush away these small branches or anything else that would have given her no trouble in her first life. Even single leaves proved to be formidable obstacles around which she had to dodge or duck.

At the very moment she caught sight of one of the samurais leaping onto the tiled roof of the complex, its tail released a branch that it unconsciously had been holding bent against a larger branch. The fragile branch snapped back into position and hit Kim squarely on the shoulder. Previously, Kim may not have even noticed such a light tap. However, in her current state, it became a massive blow that sent her spiraling down to the ground some thirty feet below.

Kim had most certainly fallen further in the past, but it had never taken her such a long time to fall such a relatively short distance. Bouncing and spinning off branches, leaves, and even a dragonfly that was making its way through the grove at that particular moment, Kim felt like her "fall" would never end. Although each impact did radiate soreness throughout her body, she felt more dizziness and nausea than pain. When she finally came to rest, after bouncing three times upon the ground, she felt as if she was going to vomit and, strangely, as if she were lying on a bed of nails.

She sat up and tried to get her equilibrium under control. She gagged a few times. Fortunately, focusing her vision upon one particular tree's trunk counteracted her dizziness. Finally, the "ridiculous" nausea ebbed away. She wondered absently if it was even possible for her to throw up now. She took a couple of deep breaths and then noticed that even though the rest of her aches were long gone, she could still vaguely feel needle pricks in her legs and rear whenever she moved slightly.

Kim looked down and realized she was resting upon dozens and dozens of small, thin spikes arranged in haphazard patterns on the ground. As she looked closer she noticed each two-inch long spike was supported by a tripod of legs as thin as the spike itself. Some of the spines on these objects had nasty-looking hooks and others, upon closer inspection, proved to have hollow points. Kim knew immediately that if someone accidentally stepped on one of them, it might very well go through their shoes or boots and straight into their feet. Never mind falling on them from a thirty foot height.

_Wonderful._

As she went to stand up, she noticed a glistening sheen on a couple of the spines.

_Poison._

Kim shut her eyes tightly and shook her stood and performed the automatic and now unnecessary gesture of brushing herself off. Suppressing a sigh, she looked about and realized she had landed very close to the outer wall of the Keep. Only a thin layer of underbrush separated her from the building. She began eagerly looking for break in the vegetation.

Suddenly, the terrible screeching of the samurais, as well as the scrapping of their armor, could be heard coming from the building's roof.

If Kim had any chance of catching up with them, she needed to move immediately. Fortunately, just like the undergrowth from a few minutes earlier, the spikes proved to be a very useful pathway for her. About ten yards down this "path," a downed branch created a breach in the tangled shrubbery that guarded the building. Its height was about the same as the Stoppables' hedge, and she cleared it just as easily. Once over, Kim surveyed her next obstacle-the structure's outer wall. Its roof was a good fifty feet up-too far to jump, except maybe from one of the taller trees in the grove. Maybe.

 _If only I had my grappler dryer or even just an ordinary grappling hook. Well, okay, if only I had one and could actually_ _ **use**_ _it_.

Kim was just about to hop back over into the grove and try the "tree route" again when something about the building's white plaster wall struck her strangely.

It looked grooved or ... no, not that, but it was definitely not smooth. It had an odd, undulating pattern that was just discernible in the starlight. She walked up to the wall and ran her hand gently across its surface.

_You are so kidding me!_

The wall was embedded with literally thousands of the same type of spikes she had encountered in the grove, all their spines curved upward. They had been whitewashed to blend with the wall's surface. With any luck, Kim mused bitterly, someone would rip her hands and feet to shreds when trying to scale it. She also noticed most of the spines looked wet … mostly likely with poison. The degree of treachery and outright viciousness involved in the complex's defense was sickening.

_And how exactly is_ _**honor** _ _connected with_ _**this** _

Then she smiled.

_Fine. If that's the way you're going to play it, then let's play._

She reached up and hooked her fingers around a pair of glistening spines a few feet above her head. As she suspected, Kim was able to lift herself easily off the ground with their support. She then placed the toes of her shoes upon two lower rows of spikes. Tentatively at first, but then more rapidly, Kim began scaling the wall.

She didn't run into problems until she reached the top. The spines stopped about five feet beneath the roof, and the eave jutted out from the wall two feet, maybe three. Kim tried, but her arms were just not long enough to grasp the edge of the roof and still hold onto the wall. She turned her head and glanced at the ground far below. Falling was only a concern because of the amount of time it would cost her to race back from wherever she'd finally land and then climb back up the wall and try again.

The retreating echo of monkey claws upon tile forced the issue.

Kim crouched against the wall and then, with all the strength in her forearms and legs, pushed herself up and backwards into the night. As her extending hands grasped empty air, Kim feared she had overshot her target, and, within a second of having this revelation, the pull of gravity overtook her momentum. Her view was completely swallowed by the whiteness of the wall. Desperately reaching out with her fingers, she suddenly felt the coldness of a roof tile impact the side of her left hand. She hung by this one hand for a precarious few seconds until she successfully grabbed hold of the roof's edge with her right hand as well.

After snatching a much-needed breath, she began the second phase of her desperate ploy. Kicking her legs in unison, she began swinging her body using the eave as a pivot. Once she was swaying close enough to the wall, she kicked against it to give herself more momentum. After a few of these kicks, she was swinging parallel with the roof. After two more "boost kicks," she let go.

It was not the most graceful back-flip Kim Possible had ever executed. In fact, it sorta tanked. Her landing had been so lopsided that it would have easily sprained an ankle in her first life. Nevertheless, she was on the roof. Moreover, even with the sharp-if rapidly fading pain, Kim felt better, physically, than she had in a long, long while.

Her momentary elation faded quickly as her eyes scanned an empty roof and her ears returned only the hollow sound of the breeze. She sighed. Then suddenly she jumped to her feet and raced along the roof toward one of the open windows in the complex's central tower. Even if she couldn't track down the samurais, there was _no way_ she would give up before learning something useful about the hideous school that had laid claim to her friend and his daughter.

II.

Kim launched herself through the open window before giving the room even a cursory glance. This uncharacteristic lack of care brought about no bad consequences however. In addition to the facts that she was already dead and invisible to those who were not, the room was empty. It was a small room with a few book cases, a desk, and a single sliding screen door. The door was closed.

Kim cased the room. Nothing seemed extraordinary about it. Very plain, very ho-hum. Yet ... there was something about it that seemed out of place. Not that any single object gave her that impression. Rather, it seemed as if the room itself ... something about it ... or ... something framing it ... seemed _off_. She paced around the perimeter of the room but couldn't put her finger on what was bothering her. Finally, after a few more moments, she gave up and climbed back out the window.

III.

Walking counter-clockwise about the tower, Kim reached an open window on the northern face of the complex. The light flooding from the open shutters was so bright that she was momentarily blinded as she carefully stepped into the room. This was most unfortunate because just as her eyes cleared, she heard the door sliding shut and made out the silhouette of someone walking across the screen wall and out of her line of sight.

_Shoot!_

Kim groused over the missed opportunity to make her way deeper into the Keep, but only for a handful of seconds. She scanned the walls of the room for anything interesting. It was larger than the previous room, but emptier, too. There was a chest in the far right corner. It appeared to be locked-not that it mattered for her. The only other object in the room was a multi-paneled screen that was arranged along the left wall. The surfaces of the panels were coated in gold-leaf over which an intricate scene had been painted.

There was a large castle located on the top of the far left panel and stone gray mountains ran along the top border of the remaining panels. An army of ninjas was advancing along the bottom from the far right. Kim noted dryly that the ninjas were human; in fact, there was not a simian figure in the entire massive design. With the exception of small rows of pink lotus blossoms bordering their edges, the bottom half of the left panels were utterly blank. Kim gave the screen a few brief glances and then sat down in the center of the floor. Perhaps the individual who had just left would return shortly.

As she impatiently waited, Kim found her gaze shifting, so frequently that it became slightly annoying, to the blank panels of the screen. The empty space seemed so inexplicable-almost as if the artist initially had something planned for that corner but, for whatever reason, had been unable to finish it.

At least five minutes had passed.

_Two more minutes, and then I'll try another window._

As had been the case with the previous chamber, Kim sensed that something was just not _right_ about this room. But it wasn't anything supernatural; it felt like something simple, basic. Yet ... pervasive.

Finally, Kim got up, gave the blank space on the screen one final look, and left the room.

IV.

The window on the eastern side of the tower opened to a room even emptier than the first two. And, of course, its screened doorway was closed. If the room on the southern face of the tower also held nothing, she would simply try the windows on a lower level.

There simply had to be a way into the complex.

Although Kim was not about to give up, her hope of making an important discovery had begun to lag slightly. Then, as she turned around the tower's southeast corner, Kim stifled a cry.

Beyond an abrupt field just past the complex's south wall and edged by a cluster of tangled trees, a violently sudden drop-off opened to one of the most breath-taking views Kim had ever seen. Lit with only the flickering lights of the Milky Way, the visibility seemed to stretch on for hundreds of miles. She could see over two mist-shrouded mountain ranges, and past these, she could make out an expansive region of fields that seemed cut out of a blunted rocky piedmont that, in turn, merged with the early stages of yet another mountain range. These final peaks would have melted into the obscurity of the storm clouds that shrouded them if not for the sprinkling of gentle lights from dozens of villages that were perched and sheltered along their ridges. Kim couldn't be sure, but she believed that she could hear the vague beating of waves coming from a distance beyond this stunning view's vanishing point. As much as she fought against it, she could not deny that there was something about the view, or, rather, something about the view seen from that specific perspective at the back of that despicable campus that, in spite of everything, felt ... well ... that felt _right_. The sensation that passed over her like the smoky scent of a crisp autumn evening was undeniably that of a homecoming.

_Ugh! Head in the game, Possible!_

She shook her head in disgust and spun around to enter the window on the tower's southern face. She was surprised to discover that the window space was pitch dark; the lights in the room were off.

And then _it_ hit her-what had been so odd and off-kilter about the other rooms. Kim recalled noticing absently that the lights in the room with the painted screen had been emanating _from the ceiling_. They were using _electric_ lights!

The sheer audacity left Kim speechless. While Ron and Mariko had to stumble through the shadows with flickering candles, Sensei's _palace_ was ostentatiously lit up like the Eiffel Tower!

The bubbling rage inside Kim's head suddenly halted as she heard a voice from her past echo over the cliff and across the far valleys behind her.

"H-Hirotaka?" she breathed, turning toward the voice.

V.

As Kim zigzagged among the maze of tilted rooftops along the steep southern decline of the complex, a confusion of emotions and memories rattled painfully within her. She could honestly say that she had not given the person toward whom she was racing a moment's thought since early junior year. However, now that she _was_ thinking about him, annoying pangs of shame and regret flooded her chest.

She had crushed over the "hottie" exchange student harder then she had over anyone … ever. Harder than Walter Nelson, Bobby Johnson, Dex from the Oh Boyz, and even Josh Mankey. She had become so, _so_ shallow for him. The motorcycle riding martial artist had only been in her life for a handful of days, but she had been willing to set aside her friendship for Monique just to get him to look her way.

And he had _known_. Oh yes, he definitely knew the entire time how he had effected her-them. In fact, as she recalled the events of that week, she realized how bemused he had been when Mon and she tore into each other just to sit next to him at that concert.

He had been playing them both-and dating _Bonnie_ the entire time! Kim thought darkly that it made perfect sense Hirotaka would be one of Yori's classmates.

_Probably the best of friends._

She reached the outer wall. As she looked over its edge at the small field where her former crush now stood with his back toward her, Kim sighed. Even after she and Monique had apologized to each another, Kim had still felt pretty rotten and ashamed.

She smiled. But all those feelings had melted away when Ron burst through the terminal's doors a few moments later. The way his eyes had lit up when he first saw her. The tight embrace. His ridiculous grin.

_Oh yeah. He so made everything better._

Kim dwelt on the memory of her reunion with Ron for a few pleasant moments. Absently, she reflected that that day had been the first time she had worn her peasant shirt-the shirt she had been wearing ever since her "second life" began. In any case, her reminisces grounded her attention to the sitch at hand. Her guilt over Hirotaka brushed aside, she was able to focus upon the ninja's immediate importance: he was her ticket into the Keep.

She favored the back of his head-his hair somewhat shorter and less "cool" than she had remembered it being-with a sly smile.

_Would you be a gentleman and hold the door for me?_

VI.

After watching Hirotaka stand motionless for a handful of minutes, Kim began to wonder what exactly he was up to. Initially, it had been his voice that had caught her attention. However, he appeared to be all alone at the complex's rear entrance. If he had been talking to someone, perhaps the other person or persons had already gone back inside. Yet Kim knew he was there for a purpose. Although he appeared to be standing stock still, she could detect slight movements in his back and neck that told her he was on full alert. He seemed to be scanning the shadows beneath the trees that bordered the small field.

_Is he keeping watch or waiting for someone?_

"Were you successful?"

The most disturbing aspect of Hirotaka's sudden question was not its abruptness. Kim had sensed a change in the feeling of the night just before he had spoken; she been ready for _something_ to happen without knowing what. Rather, it was how much more silent and still the night seemed _after_ his words had faded into echo that unnerved her.

Kim trained her eyes in the direction the ninja had shot his words, beneath the twisted branches. The darkness within the woods seemed almost absolute, but as she stared, Kim began to see where the air knotted into a different sort of blackness. Gradually, these shadows gathered into a figure that stepped into the starlight, the figure of someone Kim had most definitely not expected to see.

"Well, that depends, Sport. Do you have the mullah?" Shego asked in a bored voice.

Shrieking erupted on either side of Kim as two samurai statues perched on the rear wall burst into life.

"Eeeeeeyow!" she cried in surprise. As she caught her breath, Kim vowed that she would never, ever get used to mystical monkey power.

_How did I miss seeing them before!?_

The simians drew their swords and hurled their unearthly wails toward the green-hued villainess. They appeared to be having considerable trouble restraining themselves from jumping from the wall and attacking her. Although they appeared to be just as hideous as the two monkeys Kim had seen outside Ron and Mariko's cell, she sensed that, for some reason, these warriors were a different pair.

For her part, Shego remained partially hidden in the shadows at the wood's edge. She acknowledged only Hirotaka's presence.

"Welcome, Go-san," Hirotaka said coolly as he performed a smooth and calculated bow. "Might I offer you some form of refreshment? Perhaps some sake? It would be Yamanouchi's honor." He gestured toward the rear entrance of the Keep.

"No thanks, kid," Shego said laconically. "I'm pretty comfortable right where I am. Besides, I only drink when I am off duty."

_Smart move, Shego._

Although there was certainly no love lost between Kim and her former arch-nemesis, she knew the choice of siding between Shego and the "honorable" ninja school was no choice at all.

Despite the fact that the upper-half of Shego's body remained hidden in the heavy shadows of the trees, Kim could almost sense the malevolent smile on her lips when she spoke again. "You didn't answer my question, Sport."

"It will be my honor to answer your question, Go-san, when you have honored mine with a response." Hirotaka's tone was measured, flat, unimpressed.

Shego' hands, which had been up to this point resting languidly upon her hips, suddenly became rigid. "You know how this game is played, Hirotaka." Although her body language indicated a definite shift in tension, Shego's voice remained cool and patronizing.

"Indeed, Go-san." Hirotaka acknowledged. "I believe it is referred to in your country as 'You-show-me-yours-and-I'll-show-you-mine.'"

"That's it!" Shego's raised hands flared in green plasma. "I don't have time for this _monkeying_ around- **do you or do you not have the money!** "

As soon as Shego ignited her energy power, both samurais leapt from their perches and landed heavily, if not completely gracelessly, on the ground. They advanced menacingly toward Shego. One sliced the air before him with his sword while the other made violent sounds that seemed to antagonize his partner all the more.

Immediately, Kim was over the side and on the ground. The wall was shorter on this side of the complex, but the twenty foot drop was still pretty rough. The impact radiated painfully up her shins and into her knees, but passed quickly. Once she was able to run, Kim realized that the samurais were holding steady in flanking positions on either side of Hirotaka.

Kim warily walked a semi-circle around Hirotaka and the sword-happy samurai on his right. As she did so, she nervously shook her head.

_There you go again, Possible. Straight into mission mode. What can_ _**you** _ _do?_

With Mariko some five hundred yards away in her cell, there was no way Kim could even give Shego a warning if one of the simians charged her.

Hirotaka sighed. For a stealthy ninja, it seemed like a fairly obvious and forced gesture. "Most certainly, Go-san. Yamanouchi has honored its part of the bargain."

Before Shego could launch another barb, she was caught off-guard by a small pouch that landed in the grass a few inches from her feet. She smiled and extinguished her hands. "Don't mind if I count it first, do you?"

"Not at all, Go-san," was the flat reply.

Kim was more than a little distressed by the situation. Not only didn't she trust Hirotaka, but the quickness with which he had produced the pouch unnerved her greatly. She recalled that even with her extensive martial arts knowledge, Hirotaka had exceedingly impressed her with his abilities junior year. That had been almost a decade ago. There was no telling what skills he had achieved in the interim. Despite the superficial appearances to the contrary, Kim did not believe that things were boding well for Shego.

Suddenly, Hirotaka was diving headlong in Kim's direction. With liquid reflexes, she was able to partially duck out of his way at the last second. Even so, he had been close enough that the invisible boundary surrounding him had thrown her violently into the air. A couple of quick, if painful, bounces latter, Kim found herself three yards away from the ninja. Her evasive action had more than likely prevented her from ricocheting around the small clearing for untold moments.

"Nice catch!" Shego laughed. "I heard you were pretty light on your feet, but I must say, I'm impressed." Shego stood from her crouched position and smirked at Hirotaka.

The ninja was lying on his side in the grass, his right hand upraised with a small pouch in his grip. Although Kim could not see his face, she could tell he was very displeased. His body literally quaked with anger. These ill feelings seemed to radiate to the samurais. The one on the right brandished his sword dangerously over his head as the one on the left howled in rage. Both drew closer to the unaware villainess.

Hirotaka got to his feet swiftly. Almost as if on signal, the samurais immediately drew away from Shego, returned to their previous positions, and regained their calmer, if still deeply unpleasant, demeanors.

A swirl of emotions and thoughts clouded Kim's mind. Chief among these were relief over the demon monkeys' retreat and curiosity over the contents of the sack Shego had thrown. However, these concerns were overshadowed by a startling revelation. Although Hirotaka had gotten within inches of her and although she had definitely been repelled by the invisible boundary that enshrouded his body-

_-there was_ _**no** _ _screaming. He was right on top of me, and th-the keening wasn't there!_

Then something else happened that took Kim aback. It happened so quickly that she could have easily convinced herself that she hadn't seen it if she had not known better. In fact, if she hadn't been looking at Hirotaka at the time she might not have caught it in the first place.

She watched him in profile hold the small pouch a few feet from his chest. Quickly, the drawstring about the top unlaced itself, and the bag opened slightly. Just as rapidly, the bag closed and the leather string drew tight. During the two second period that this transpired, Hirotaka's eyes flashed a pale shade of red.

Whether Shego saw this event, missed seeing it, or _couldn't_ see it, she certainly didn't react to it.

"They're all there, Champ. Zira's, Cornelius', _and_ Dr. Zaius' peepers."

"The Eyes of the Mandrill," Hirotaka spoke referentially. And then after a measured pause, he acknowledged Shego with a slight bow. "Thank you, Go-san."

"Don't mention it," Shego replied with marked disinterest. "But," she said with a sudden edge in her voice, "If you don't mind my asking, why did you need me to get them?"

The silence with which Hirotaka answered this question was unmistakably dangerous.

For a few tense seconds, all Kim could hear was the eager breathing of the samurais. She could not help fearing that Shego was about to pay for going too far. The ninja so did not want to share whatever dark purpose those "eyes" might have.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Sport," Shego broke the silence with a dismissive air, "I don't care _what_ you're going to do with them. I just wanted to know why you contacted _me_. Wasn't _The Chosen One_ up to the task?"

The flippant tone Shego used in reference to Ron caused Kim's animosity for the former henchwoman to seethe to the surface. The sudden anger, however, could not completely mask the troubling subject that Shego's statement had raised. As The Chosen One, what, in fact, _had_ Ron been doing for Sensei's all these many years.

"The Chosen One was unavailable." Hirotaka responded flatly.

"Uh-huh," Shego replied after a moment. "So in other words, Sensei hasn't been able to convince Stoppable that boosting artifacts from national museums is _honorable_ , right?"

The implications of this statement put Kim somewhat at ease. Moreover, the caustic slant with which Shego pronounced "honorable" was very satisfying to hear. It didn't make up for the villainess' previous slight against Ron, but it still rocked.

"The Chosen One was unavailable." Hirotaka repeated.

"Fine," Shego said holding up her hands, "whatever. But then why didn't you do the _honors_? You're pretty hot stuff and _honorable_ to boot. And for that matter why not Stoppable's wife-"

"She's deceased," Hirotkaka snapped. The unexpected surge of emotion in his voice was not lost on either woman.

"Really?" Shego said. For the first time since the encounter began, the henchwoman let down her guard. She seemed genuinely affected by what she had just heard. She stared into space for a moment or two as if lost in thought, for once at a complete lost for words. Finally, she looked at Hirotaka and said somberly, "Stoppable just can't catch a break, can he?"

Hirotaka's face was as toneless and flat as a mask.

"Please, Hirotaka," Shego said with unbridled sarcasm, "reign in the sympathy, will ya? You're gonna to make me burst into tears."

Hirotaka did not even blink in response.

"Whatever. Enjoy the monkey eyes," Shego said with a wave of her hand, "you know how to reach me if you need to-buh-bye!"

As Shego spun around and disappeared beneath the branches, both simians howled wildly and took off after her.

Within seconds, Kim was halfway across the field and only a few steps behind them. Despite both her previous history with the villainess and her sincere doubts that she could do anything to help her, Kim could not stand by and let anyone get ripped to shreds by those hideous creatures. As she ran, she recalled how there had been no keening when she edged close to the first samurai on the mountaintop. Although that did not mean there was no boundary, the samurais weren't people, either, so maybe things were different with them.

_I don't know ... maybe... I might be able ... to ... to touch them or do_ _**something** _

However, just before the simians reached the trees, they stopped dead in their tracks.

Kim came up short behind them and immediately felt a prickling sensation at the base of her neck that compelled her to turn around.

There, standing stock still with a face as featureless as a mask, was Hirotaka. His empty right palm was raised above his head. Slowly, he closed it into a fist. Kim turned her head toward the sudden din of clattering armor and grunts behind her. The simians had turned around and were beginning to march toward the ninja.

_Oh my gosh._

Not only was Hirotaka aware of the samurais' presence-something Kim had already suspected deep down, he was controlling them too.

Grumbling, the armored simians scurried past the ninja toward an entranceway in the south wall about ten yards behind him. As they reached the door, it opened- automatically, it seemed, to admit them.

The figure of Hirotaka quickly following in pace after them snapped Kim out of her momentary shock. She sprinted across the small clearing as quickly as she could.

W _hat was I doing standing there like an idiot?!_

She was still yards away when Hirotaka disappeared within the complex and the door began to close. Kim rolled into a handstand and cart-wheeled toward the rapidly closing gap.

She landed painfully, blinded and bathed in brilliant light.

_I'm inside!_

VII.

She was not.

A cool breeze fluttered through the strands of hair that had fallen across her face. As she blinked to adjust her eyes, she realized that the stunning light was merely the mid-morning sun. A flashing glimpse of green grass and the vague scent of plum blossoms revealed that she was sitting on her rear somewhere outside.

She had "blacked out" again.

"Nooooooo!" she cried in exasperation as she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"I was there! I was _so_ there! I had made it inside!" She sighed deeply and tried to calm herself. All her efforts had gone for nothing. Sure, she had gathered some information, but what did it really amount to? The school was a rotten place and Sensei was up to no good? She already knew _that_! She had learned nothing useful. Nothing, at least, that could calm Mariko's fears.

Although her pulse slowed and her anger ebbed away within a few moments, she couldn't shake the conviction that she had failed. The belief that she had let down Ron and his daughter weighed heavily upon her.

Yet, the memory of the little girl compelled Kim to move on. When she thought of their parting the night before at the window, she found that she was even able to smile.

_Pity fiesta's over, Possible. There's a little girl who needs you._

She stood up, shook her head, and found herself in the shoddy little courtyard within Ron and Mariko's building. The night before, she had not gotten a good look at the building or its layout. Now she found herself on the far northern end of the square, surrounded by garden statues that were haphazardly placed. A few were on their sides. She heard some commotion to her immediate left and turned to see a rather large entranceway in the northeastern corner of the building's first floor. Unlike the cells' portals, it didn't have a sliding door; it was simply open. As she toward the sounds coming from this entrance, Kim detected the increased moisture and temperature of a spa or a sauna. She heard gentle laughter and a random splash.

Then she spied a torn corner of screen flapping in the breeze three cell's down the corridor. Forgetting about the steam room, Kim jogged to her friends' dwelling. The front window was still propped open, and she climbed in quickly without thinking.

"Mariko!" Kim called as she crawled through the window.

There was no answer. Kim looked quickly about the small room; the dwelling seemed deserted. But not quite. As she walked across the floor and neared Mariko's cell, she got the unmistakable sense that someone was in the little girl's room. Despite her suddenly accelerated heartbeat, Kim refused to let anxiety overwhelm her. "Sweetheart?" she asked as she stepped across Mariko's threshold.

_Oh no. Oh no._

On the left side of the small room with her back to Kim, sat a girl with shoulder-length jet black hair, dressed in a schoolgirl's uniform. She looked at least ten years of age.

Somehow, Kim managed to keep her voice from breaking. "Mariko?"

No reaction. No response.

Kim edged slowly around the girl to face her. It was not Mariko; it was someone else.

A deep sigh escaped Kim's chest. Seconds before, she had seen all her worst fears realized. She had been gone for half a decade or more, and Mariko had grown up miserable and most likely petrified in that horrible, horrible place. Thankfully, it wasn't true.

The girl sitting upon bent knees before Kim was at least twelve. She held a small book in her lap that she appeared to be reading. Her skin was a shade or two darker than Mariko's and freckle-free. Her eyes were dark and seemed very small. In fact, the girl's most distinctive characteristic was that she seemed smaller than she really was. And her face seemed almost blank, her features muted. The only feature that stood out was a rather deep frown that seemed etched into her face.

_But who is she? And where are Mariko and Ron?_

Kim gave the young girl a brief parting look and then left the room.

As she did, she recalled the day in Middleton when she suddenly found herself on the road to her parents' house. In seconds, she was out the window and charging back up the corridor. Whenever she reappeared, she always found herself placed right where she needed to be.

_At least so far._

VIII.

Just before she reached the "sauna's" entranceway, a tall skinny man and a little boy, a few years older than Mariko, walked out of the door. Both had towels wrapped about their waists.

Kim peered around the side of the entrance to make sure no one else was coming, and then walking inside. Almost immediately, she was enveloped in steam. As with the rain and the snow, the thick moisture did not make contact with her skin; it only hovered closely about her. The first burst of steam was so dense that she had trouble seeing where she was going.

Unexpectedly, idle doubts began to take root. How long _had_ she been gone this time? A week, a month? Perhaps the five-year time frame had not been off target. There was no proof that it wasn't.

"Rufina!"

Suddenly Kim's right leg was being tightly embraced by a very wet little girl.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Kim smiled with relief as she gently stroked Mariko's damp hair. The moisture from the little girl's body, unlike the moisture in the air, had no trouble soaking through Kim's clothes to her leg.

Kim bent down and looked into the little girl's dripping, beaming face. Mariko looked to be the same age as when she had last seen her. Then Kim noticed something else.

"Whoah! You're naked!" Kim cried with a smile. "You should grab a towel before you catch cold!"

Mariko gave her friend a funny look. "Huh? You can't catch a cold from an onsen." She looked behind her. "Can you, daddy?"

"Not to my knowledge," Ron said stepping out of the indoor hot spring.

_Oh …_

"What's wrong, Rufina?"

"Nothing," Kim said turning her head to the floor quickly.

"If Rufina is here," Ron laughed lightly, "I guess I better put on a towel."

"What do you mean, daddy?" Mariko asked looking with growing concern at Kim who was still looking at the ground.

"Well, she's never seen me naked before, has she?" Ron asked.

"No, no," Kim said slowly and quietly. "I haven't."

"But, but," Mariko said looking back and forth between her friend and her father. "I-is that bad?"

"No, it's not bad," her father smiled as he brought over a towel for his daughter. "But, she might be embarrassed."

As he bundled her up, Mariko looked back over her shoulder at Kim. "A-are you embarrassed, Rufina?"

Kim turned her face back to the little girl. "No, no, I'm fine." She smiled, a little too broadly.

"Sure?" Mariko asked. "You look sad."

Suddenly, Kim realized that she had again been lying to her friend. "Well, I-I'll explain later, Sweetheart. But I'll be fine. Okay?"

"O-okay." Mariko said hesitantly as she took up Kim's hand.

"Rufina's sad again?" Ron, now toweled, asked as he took up his daughter's other hand. "She's sad a lot isn't, she?" Although his words were light, there was concern in his voice.

"She'll be okay, daddy," Mariko said looking up at Kim.

"Sweetie," Kim asked, trying to change the subject, "when did you last see me?"

"Oh, last night," Mariko said. The she asked excitedly, "What did you find out?"

_Oh boy._

"Well," Kim said honestly, "not everything I wanted to. I'm going to go back out tonight." She squeezed Mariko's hand, "Don't worry, I'll find out what's going on."

_And I will, too._

The threesome walked out into the mild late morning air. The breeze was suffused with the light fragrance of the plum blossoms, and the sky was a piercing blue. Kim mused that if the weather was this wonderful all the time, it would be easy to ignore the unkempt courtyard and imagine that you were somewhere else. Just as this thought registered however, she noticed an angry cloud of deep bluish gray hovering in the direction of the south end of the school.

"Oh," Kim remembered suddenly, "I stopped by your house and there was a girl in your room."

"Yeah," Mariko smiled up at her, "that's Rina. She's going to look after me whenever daddy's gone on one of his trips. And she's going-"

Ron stopped short and swiftly got down on one knee next to his daughter.

"Honey," he said softly, "I know we've only been here one night, but you must, you must keep your voice down." His voice was kind but firm. "We're not at Bubbe's anymore."

Mariko nodded sheepishly.

"And," he said leaning close to her ear, "you mustn't talk about daddy's trips or about the secret I told you this morning. Ever."

Mariko looked to Kim nervously.

"Understand?" Ron asked.

"C-can I tell, Rufina?" Mariko whispered.

The silence was very uneasy. For all of them.

Finally, after looking at the ground for what seemed a long while, Ron looked earnestly in his daughter's eyes and whispered, "Only if no one can hear you."

His daughter's eyes immediately brightened. "Thank you, daddy!"

Then Ron watched as his little girl cupped her hands around her mouth and tilted her head slightly in the air. As he saw her mouth start to move, he went to stop her, but then realized that he couldn't hear a word she was "whispering" to her imaginary friend.

When she finished and turned back to face him, he beamed at her. "And I thought _I_ had a great imagination when I was kid." He warmly kissed her on the forehead.

IX.

Kim tried to smile.

As heartwarming as the scene between her best friend and his daughter had been, it still couldn't drive away the sudden chill Mariko's secret had placed around her heart. The excitement with which the little girl had whispered the words only intensified the dread they produced in Kim.

She had said, "My daddy is meeting with Sensei today. They're going to talk about my monkey powers!"

* * *

_TBC ..._


	14. Thirteen

I.

Mariko's steps were calm and fell in line with the deliberate pace of her father. Yet the excitement and joy bubbling within her was flowing up and down her tiny arms.

Ron gave his daughter a knowing smile and gently returned the playful squeezes she was giving his right hand.

Kim, holding onto Mariko's other hand, tried to return the excited smiles the little girl was flashing her and attempted to keep her own emotions from being too evident in her eyes.

When Ron slid open their dwelling's door, he revealed the figure of Rina bowing slightly with her back near the rear wall of the main room.

"Stoppable-san," the girl said hesitantly, refusing to make eye contact.

"Rina-chan," Ron said pleasantly as he let go of his daughter's hand and returned the young girl's bow. "I shouldn't be gone more than an hour," he explained as he walked across the room. "Thanks again for coming on such short notice," he said turning down the hallway to his cell.

Still bowed, the girl replied somewhat more confidently, "It is my honor, Stoppable-san." She kept her eyes to the floor and did not straighten her back until she heard his door slide shut.

"Mariko-chan," Rina said in an easier voice, "I have laid out your kimono in your room." She gestured with her left arm to Mariko's open door.

"Thank you, Rina," Mariko said happily as the bottoms of her not completely dry feet slapped across the floor.

Kim looked at the young girl as she slowly followed Mariko into her cell. Standing straight, Rina definitely seemed taller and older than her mannerisms and unsteady voice suggested.

Once Rina seemed certain Mariko was in her room and beginning to change, she walked toward the middle of the room, went slowly down to her knees, and produced from a skirt pocket the same small book Kim had seen her reading from earlier.

Although Kim couldn't deny the chill of deja vu she had felt when the young girl had uttered the phrase, "It is my honor, Stoppable-san," she also knew that this girl was **not** Yori. Just because she was a Yamanouchi student did not _necessarily_ mean that she was evil. Everything about Rina seemed to suggest to Kim that she was exactly what she appeared to be-just a shy adolescent girl.

_Still, if she's going to be watching over Mariko, it won't hurt to be a little on guard._

II.

When Kim turned her glance back to Mariko's room, she saw the little girl with her back towards her, struggling to pull her hiyoku over her head. However, her underpants still lay next to her rolled up mat, so Mariko's bottom was completely exposed in the open doorway.

"Mariko!" Kim said in a surprised, stern voice. "Don't you think you should shut the door before you start dressing?"

The little girl spun around and looked at Kim through the collar of the undergarment. "Huh?" she asked with a confused look. "Oh, oh ... right," she nodded through the collar and briskly walked still half-naked over to the door and slid it closed. She then pulled her head through the hiyoku so the bottom edge of the garment draped past her knees. Mariko then marched back to her mat to pull on her underpants.

Kim shook her head bemusedly and rolled her eyes.

As Mariko wrapped her kimono about her, she asked Kim with baited breath, "So what do you think Sensei will say-" She stopped suddenly and her eyes went wide. Before Kim could ask her what was wrong, the little girl hurried to her side and pressed her cupped hands to Kim's right ear. She whispered, "I almost forgot-I'm not supposed to talk about it out loud!" And then she whispered her question again, "So what do you think Sensei will say when daddy tells him I have monkey powers?"

"Sweetheart-" Kim began.

"Whisper," Mariko interrupted with a hurried whisper.

"But, sweetie," Kim whispered in Mariko's waiting ear, "you are the only one who can hear me."

"I know," Mariko whispered back, "but if you whisper too then I'll remember to whisper."

"Okay," Kim said and then quickly whispered, "Sorry, okay." She swallowed a breath and spoke somberly into the little girl's ear. "But, sweetheart, you don't have your monkey powers yet."

Mariko gave Kim a perplexed look.

"Remember," she explained gently, "when we were flying around the room? That was me, sweetie, it wasn't your powers, remember?"

"Oh!" Mariko's voice announced. "Sorry," she whispered quickly and apologetically into Kim's ear. "I know _that_ , Rufina. I wasn't talking about the flying."

"What were you talking about?" Kim whispered back.

The smile was very obvious in the little girl's voice. "My monkey power is that I can see _you_ , Rufina!"

When Kim looked back at her friend, delight and pride were very evident upon her beaming face and in her shining eyes. Before Kim could begin to formulate any reply, Mariko had her hands cupped about her ear again.

"When daddy and I were walking back up the mountain, I wanted to see you. Daddy had just changed the lotus blade into an umbrella, and I wished that I really did have monkey powers and then ... and then I saw you!"

Kim gently sat Mariko into her lap. She so didn't want to disappoint her, but Sensei was now involved-Kim needed to be firm. "Sweetheart," Kim explained as kindly as she could, "your daddy has mystical monkey powers, and _he_ can't see me."

"Everyone's monkey powers are different, Rufina," Mariko breathed with an easy smile.

"I guess," Kim said sadly. Then after a beat she whispered to Mariko, "but what about those days when Rufus got sick and I wasn't there? You wanted me to be there, but I didn't come."

That gave the little girl pause. She didn't look upset, but for a long minute or two she sat quietly in Kim's lap, deep in thought. Then her face broke into a very broad smile. She leaned to Kim's ear and explained, "I must just be learning my powers. When I really know how to use them, we'll be together all the time! Forever! And you'll never disappear again!"

The warmth in her friend's voice and the lovely beat of her breath against Kim's ear was undercut by the future heartbreak Kim feared was being foretold by the words Mariko had spoken.

III.

Ron did not known how to ride a bike. He had been given one two birthdays before but had never managed to build up the courage to ride it. Donald Stoppable secured training wheels to it, but Ron still balked at the prospect of learning to ride. It wasn't maintaining his balance that was the problem; it was the extreme height of the seat, even at its lowest setting. And the extra pair of wheels did nothing to dispel this bi-cyclical vertigo.

Kim had often mused that the height of the seat on Ron's bike was actually a little lower than the rear basket frame on _her_ bike that Ron so eagerly perched himself on whenever she offered him a lift. Generously, he had offered her rides on the back of his trike in return. Kim, however, had come to realize that doing anything involving a tricycle in public at age ten was simply not done.

And when it came to special occasions, like restaurant openings, Ron had to agree.

The day of the Bueno Nacho opening was especially warm and humid. The vibrations from Ron's giddy bouncing over the rear wheel ran along her bike's frame and made it even more difficult for Kim to peddle. Normally, she had no problem giving her friend a ride on her bike; in fact, she appreciated how the exercise built up the muscles in her legs. However, the weather, her poor clothing choice of long, heavy pants, the uphill climb on the road to the restaurant, and Ron's anxious vibrations all combined to make the trip a very unpleasant one for her. It was at times like these that Kim felt like she was a big sister to _three_ little brothers rather than just the tweebs.

Things didn't exactly improve once they reached the restaurant, either. Although there was already a small crowd waiting patiently for the grand opening ribbon to be cut, Ron just couldn't seem to understand that he needed to wait like everyone else. Twice in the first ten minutes, he lost control of himself and charged the doors-fortunately remembering each time to duck under the ribbon at the last second before inadvertently clothes-lining himself. Kim's face had been as red as her hair as she went to recover her best friend from the still locked front doors. It had been worse the second time because he had tried to pry the lock with the knife and fork he had brought along for the occasion-where in the world did he get those from? Then, as she was dragging him back, some guy remarked to Ron that he should try to behave and not embarrass his "big sister."

She made her anger no secret to him and even threatened to leave.

"I'm sorry, KP," he said with genuine remorse.

"What's a 'KayPea'?" Mariko asked.

"Oh," Kim smiled, "that was one of your daddy's nicknames for me. My name's Kim Possible, so he took the first letter of my first name and the last letter of my last name-KP."

"That's funny," Mariko said. "And nice."

"Yes, it is." Kim nodded.

"Did he have other ... nick ... nicknames for you?"

"Oh yeah, a bunch. Let me see ... 'Kimbo,' 'Kimila,' 'Kim Pos-cee-blay,' and I think he even called me 'K to the Pizzle' a couple of times. That one didn't last too long."

"Daddy was so silly when he was little," Mariko managed between giggles.

"Yes," Kim smiled wistfully, "yes, he was."

Ron behaved fairly normally until the ribbon was finally cut. Once the doors to Middleton's first and only Tex-Mex fast food restaurant officially opened, a flash of mania had coursed over his features, but Kim's hand on his left shoulder helped to reel his enthusiasm back from the edge. As he stood in line to place their order, Kim dutifully went to the ladies' room to wash off his knife and fork. There was no way she was going to let him use them on his food after he had been digging around with them in the door's lock. When she got out, he was already seated in a booth midway between the counter and the aisle. He had a green and orange striped napkin tucked into his shirt like a bib and was staring in somewhat rapt-attention to the bendy straw he was adjusting in his drink cup.

Kim rolled her eyes in exasperation as she made her way to the table. There was no way his plate wasn't already clean. He might have even started eating _her_ meal by this point.

But when she scooted into the booth, she was surprised to see that Ron had not touched anything on his tray.

"Is everything okay, Ron?" She asked a little concerned.

"Huh?" Ron asked nonplussed.

"The food," Kim said pointing to his taco-burrito-chimurito combo. "You haven't touched any of it. It's okay, right?"

"Oh yeah, KP," Ron smiled easily. "I was just waiting for you."

And he was too. He didn't touch his food or even take a sip from his drink until after Kim had tried her nachos first. And then, to make up for having her wash the fairly pointless silverware he had brought, Ron used the cutlery on his taco-with predictable results.

As she stood up to order him a chimurito for the ride back, Kim said, "Ron Stoppable, you are so weird," and then gave his shoulder a friendly, warm squeeze.

"Why did you say my daddy was 'weird,'" Mariko asked, a smile still on her face but some confusion clouding her eyes.

Before Kim could answer, the door to Mariko's cell slid open.

"Mariko-chan," Rina said with concern on her face. "To whom are you speaking?"

"Rufina," Mariko said pleasantly gesturing to Kim.

The young girl looked in the general direction where the little girl had pointed. Then she fixed Mariko with a very serious look. "Who is Rufina?"

"Oh, you can't see or hear her," Mariko explained, "but she is my very best friend in the whole world."

"I see."

"Would you like to say hello to her, Rina?" Mariko asked.

Rina did not answer. Instead, she stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and then approached Mariko with deliberate steps. She kneeled down so as to be eye-level with the child. And then she spoke. "Mariko-chan, you will begin classes in a few weeks, yes?"

"Yes," Mariko nodded somewhat nervously.

"You must say good-bye to your childhood before that happens."

Mariko gave Kim a nervous look, but quickly returned her eyes to the young girl's gaze.

"It is hard, I know," Rina said slowly but firmly, "but childish things can not bring one honor."

Mariko began chewing her lower lip.

"Understand?" Although Rina's words seemed stern and unfeeling, Kim could see that the young girl's eyes were not unkind, and she could hear a definite edge of sadness in her voice.

"Y-yes," Mariko said finally. Kim was more than a little concerned when she detected Rina's sadness echoed in her friend's reply.

Rina attempted a smile and quietly stood and left the room.

Immediately after the door slid shut, Mariko was at Kim's side, cupped hands about her left ear.

"We'll whisper _everything_ while she's here."

IV.

Kim was beginning to worry about Ron. Two hours had easily passed since he had left for his brief talk with Sensei. Of course, Ron was never known for his punctuality ... at least that was how it had always been.

Mariko didn't seem worried. That was something. Rina did not seem upset, either. The few times she entered the cell it was only to see if Mariko was doing okay. The last time she entered she had even smiled. Outside Mariko's window, there was gentle spring afternoon everywhere.

Still, Kim couldn't shake a growing sense of dread. Every few minutes she would look up from a bout of paper-rock-scissors, a game Mariko had picked up from Justin Renton on her last morning in Middleton, or thumb-wrestling, a game the little girl had somehow been taught by Rufus, and notice that the shadows were shifting in the room.

_What's taking him so long?_

Haunting her were the words Ron had spoke to her mother back in Middleton right after Rufus had seen Mariko "fly." If Mariko had the power, it would be the first time anyone had demonstrated it at such a young age.

Nothing about that situation boded well.

Her anxiety only mounted on their brief outing. Mariko needed to visit the bathroom, so Rina walked them both to the communal room, located on the building's first floor diametrically opposite the corner where the onsen was located. To make sure "Rufina's" presence remained a secret from the babysitter, Kim kept her palm upon Mariko's left shoulder rather than hold her hand.

Once the threesome reached the doorway, Mariko went in alone. Rina stood on one side of the entrance, Kim on the other. As she looked out upon the courtyard, Kim anxiously drummed the fingers of her right hand against her left wrist. She could no longer see the sun in the sky. The light was still bright in the sky, but the shadows were growing longer with each passing moment.

_Where is he?_

Although she did not want to leave Mariko's side for even the briefest a moments, a small but strong part of her that was becoming increasingly harder to deny wanted to take off and find her best friend.

Kim was just about to release all her tension in a deep sigh when she was mildly surprised by Rina letting go with a sigh of her own.

She glanced over at the young girl and realized she was not reading from her book. Instead, she too was gazing into the courtyard, watching the shadows lengthen. The look upon the girl's face, especially around her small eyes, seemed haggard and … well, old. Even though she was standing straight at attention, something about her gave Kim the impression that she was stooped or sagging under the weight of the day.

The girl immediately brightened, however lightly, once Mariko returned.

Mariko instantly took Kim's hand, and Kim, just as quickly, gently untangled her fingers from the little girl's grip, and placed her hand upon her head instead.

Although she hadn't seen anyone in the courtyard the entire period they were on their "outing"-which did strike Kim as a bit odd, she secretly hoped that Ron had already returned and would be waiting for them.

She was not alone in this hope.

"Did daddy come back while we were gone?" Mariko asked Kim.

Kim smiled but shrugged her shoulders.

"I do not believe so, Mariko-chan," Rina said.

She was right; he had not.

V.

Ron first started cooking when he was a little more than eight. He had begun using the Granny Crocket Oven his mother bought him to bake for his stuffed animals. For some reasons, he had been very shy and hesitant about having Kim try his little cakes and muffins. In fact, Kim hadn't known about his baking at all until his mother let it slip one day while she was over. Ron had turned very, very red. And to Kim's questions as to why he had never told her about his little oven and mixing bowl set, he could only answer that he didn't know.

"Why? Why didn't daddy know?" Mariko whispered.

"Well, he did know ... kinda-you'll see," she whispered back.

Kim asked him if she could try something the next time he used the oven.

"I don't know, KP," Ron answered somewhat sheepishly, "I've never had any real people eat my food before."

"Huh?" Mariko said, forgetting to whisper.

"That's just what I said," Kim said quietly with a smile.

"Well, my stuffed friends really like them, but my muffins might not be 'people-friendly.' I wouldn't want to get you sick!"

Kim's first impulse was to roll her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. However, she suddenly had an idea. "Well, could you bake something for Pandaroo, then?"

"Uh, sure ... sure thing, KP," Ron said somewhat nervously.

The next day Kim brought Pandaroo over to have a play-date with Liontusks.

"Liontusks?" Mariko whispered.

"Oh yeah," Kim said, suppressing a giggle. "He was a stuffed walrus, but your daddy was confused and thought he was a sea-lion and since he had tusks ... well, he called him Liontusks."

"Oh," Mariko nodded, "yeah."

The two chocolate cupcakes smelled wonderful as they were baking. The aroma from the small oven almost made Kim melt as she entered the room.

"Chocolate?" Mariko asked excitedly.

Kim put her finger to her lips and nodded.

"Just like what Justin gave me," Mariko whispered.

Kim nodded and smiled. "But an entire cupcake that tasted like chocolate."

Mariko broke into a broad grin, nodded, and then leaned in to ask, "What's a cupcake?"

"Oh," Kim said, caught of guard. "It's, well, it's a small cake."

_That wasn't so bad._

"What's a cake?"

_Okay. Maybe I spoke too soon._

"Well," Kim said after a few beats, "it's really yummy bread."

Mariko smiled and cast an unfocused gaze into the nearest corner of her small room. At least to Kim, it seemed as if the little girl was trying to imagine the smell of the small yummy type of bread that until that moment she had never heard of.

Kim generally wasn't _that_ enticed by sweets but something about these cupcakes being baked inside a small oven inside her best friend's room made her anticipation run very high. Once or twice, she caught herself eagerly bouncing on the balls of her feet. To avoid this, Kim sat with her legs bent beneath her. She placed Pandaroo not too far from where Liontusks was sitting on the floor. After a few minutes, she noticed that she was absent-mindedly bouncing her bottom off the heels of her feet.

For his part, Ron walked nervously back and forth before the oven. He would only look up occasionally and only flash Kim a worried smile.

Finally, a tinny buzzer went off as the small light bulb that did the actual baking switched off inside the oven. Ron put on his mother's mitts and removed the cakes. He placed one in front of Pandaroo and the other in front of Liontusks.

They smelled so, so good. As they waited for the cupcakes to cool, Kim reflected that she had originally thought Ron was going to frost them with a chocolate spread, but she didn't believe she could hold out that long ... besides they probably didn't need it. Kim was just about to ask Ron if it would be okay if Pandaroo tried a bite when Ron suddenly grabbed the cupcake in front of his stuffed animal and ... well ... stuffed it into his mouth. He swallowed it down in two bites.

Kim was so shocked but the sudden voracity of her friend that she only realized he was reaching for Pandaroo's cupcake at the very last second.

"Ron!" Kim yelled. "What are you doing?"

"Uh," Ron said perplexed. He brushed the chocolate crumblies from the sides of his mouth. "Uh, eating Pandaroo's cupcake," he managed finally.

"Shouldn't _I_ be eating Pandaroo's cupcake?"

"But you're not Pandaroo, KP." Ron said.

"And you're not Liontusks, either, Ron," Kim said, trying hard not to lose what little remained of her temper.

Ron stared at his friend for a long minute and then looked away. "Oh, yeah," he said finally.

Satisfied that Ron finally understood, Kim went to pick up Pandaroo's cupcake.

"Wait, KP!" Ron cried. "You can't!"

"Why not?" The urgency in his voice had tempered her anger. He had sounded worried, and so she did, too.

"Because I don't know what they might do to real people." He explained.

"But, but, Ron," she said shaking her head, "you're real, and you almost ate _both_ of them."

"Oh, yeah," Ron said with a nervous sigh. "That's right."

Kim rolled her eyes and snatched up the cupcake with a huff. She had almost finished unwrapping it when she noticed how immensely sad her friend was. He wasn't looking at her, but she could read it in his posture as he listlessly played with the impressions the carpet had made in his left knee. Kim put the cupcake back down. Something was definitely wrong.

"What was wrong?" Mariko whispered.

"That's what I wanted to find out," Kim whispered back.

"What's wrong, Ron," Kim asked him softly.

"They're crummy." Ron said without looking up.

"Bad," Kim explained before Mariko could ask.

"Is that why you don't want me to eat it?" Kim asked after a minute. "Because I won't like it?"

Ron nodded still looking at his knee.

"But they smell so good!"

Ron shrugged.

She glanced at the miserable figure of her friend and then resolutely took a bite from the cupcake.

"Ron!" she yelled.

"Oh no!" Ron yelled back. "I'm so sorry, Kim!" There was real shock in his eyes. "I didn't really poison you, did I? I'm so sorry, KP!"

"He didn't really poison you, did he?" Mariko asked horrified.

"No, no!" Kim said, again gesturing for Mariko to keep her voice down. There was no way Rina hadn't heard _that_ outburst.

"No, no, Ron!" Kim laughed. "It's wonderful!" She took another bite. "Wow, Ron, wow!"

"It was really good?" Mariko whispered.

"It was the best cupcake I had ever eaten in my entire life," Kim said with a firm smile.

It was so good, in fact, that Kim found herself licking the crumblies from her fingertips after she had finished it. Then she found and ate the dozen or so that had fallen between the folds of her shirt, and even picked at the odd few that had somehow gotten stuck to her knee. Much to her disappointment, the last of these turned out to be a very light, not-yet-quite-faded freckle.

Ron's face was even redder than it had been the day before; it was, in fact, the color of his best friend's hair. But he was smiling, too.

"Stoppable-san," Rina's voice called from the main room.

Mariko turned to Kim with flashing eyes.

"Rina-chan," Ron's voice returned her greeting.

Mariko's face broke into a gleeful smile, and she leapt from Kim's lap and ran to open her cell's door.

Kim got up quickly from the floor. However, the immense relief she felt was off-set by the anxiety that the dying light across Mariko's floor could not brush aside. Somehow a one hour visit with the school's master had swallowed up an entire day. No good, Kim sighed, could come from this.

VI.

The older woman who delivered dinner to Ron and Mariko seemed far less menacing and far frailer than the cafeteria lady at Middleton High School. And although the woman did not seem overly friendly, she did give Mariko a sidewise smile before she left. Much like the recently departed babysitter, the woman seemed burdened by an aimless melancholy.

Ron unrolled two small white mats that he produced from his cell and lit a small candle between them on the floor. Although the light from the setting sun still shone brightly enough to eat by, the candle also gave off a pleasant aroma that Mariko breathed in eagerly.

As Ron lay out the dishes before his daughter, Kim realized that the little girl had not eaten lunch. Perhaps she hadn't had breakfast either. The bowls of rice and snow peas and two tiny bowls of clear soup didn't strike Kim as enough food for an entire day.

_Ugh! And the stories I told were all about food!_

The rumbling of Mariko's tummy after she had finished her soup and almost cleaned her rice bowl only made Kim feel worse.

"I know, honey," Ron said as he leaned over to pat his daughter's knee. "It's going to take a few days, but we'll get used to eating less."

Mariko smiled up at her father and then began eating her remaining rice at a much slower rate.

After they both had finished, Ron took away the dishes and placed them near the door. He came back and sat down on his mat.

"So what did punky monkey do all day?" he asked softly with a semi-goofy grin.

"We talked and played," Mariko said.

"With … Rina?" Ron asked with a surprised look.

"Oh, no," Mariko said, "with Rufina."

"Oooh," Ron smiled. "What did you talk about?"

_Oh no._

While Kim had been telling Mariko the stories of their childhood, she had never even considered the obvious problems the stories might cause if Ron were to ask Mariko even the most innocent of questions.

_How could I be so stupid!_

"We talked about Beuno Nacho," Mariko said happily, flashing Kim a glance.

"Oh," Ron said with a broad grin, "did Rufina enjoy Bueno Nacho, too?"

"Not as much as you did, daddy!" Mariko laughed. She looked over her shoulder to Kim. Although Kim as smiling, Mariko immediately sensed something was wrong.

"Really?" Ron said. "Well, what about you, punky monkey?"

Before Mariko could respond, her tummy rumbled its own answer.

Ron chuckled, "Maybe we should talk about something else."

"O-okay," Mariko said, slowly turning her face from Kim, who was mouthing to the little girl that things were fine.

"Do you know what I did today?" The seriousness in his eyes belied his slight smile. He leaned toward his daughter.

Mariko got up on her knees and leaned close to him. "Spoke with Sensei?" she said in a hushed voice.

Ron closed his eyes and nodded.

Mariko leaned back on her heels and then after a beat leaned in again and whispered, "About my monkey powers?"

Ron smiled down at his daughter as she bounced her bottom against her heels in excitement. He closed his eyes and nodded again.

VII.

Although immense foreboding seemed to be gathering as the twilight blended with the night, Kim couldn't deny how cute Mariko looked as she tried fitfully to fall asleep. The little girl was so excited that she could barely stay prone on her mat for more than two seconds. She kept flipping from her left side to her right. At one point she even tried putting her head down where her feet had been, but this proved as futile as her regular sleeping position.

After twenty minutes of shifting and squirming, the little girl did finally stay put for a minute or two. But a thousand little signs told Kim that Mariko was not sleeping.

Finally, she spoke. "Are you angry at me, Rufina?"

"No," Kim said with surprise. "Why would I be angry with you, sweetheart?"

"Because I almost let daddy know your secret tonight," Mariko said sadly. "Didn't I?"

"No, no," Kim said earnestly. "It was _my_ fault. I should have reminded you after I told you those stories. It's my fault."

The silence that opened between them only lasted a few moments, but it felt interminable to Kim. She was just about to break it when Mariko spoke.

"I'll never tell your secret, Rufina. Never. To anybody. I promise." The gravity in the little girl's voice was palpable.

Kim leaned over to Ron's daughter and said, "I know you wouldn't, sweetie." Then she said, "But, if you ever do," she smiled and placed her finger against the child's protesting lips, "completely by accident, without meaning to, of course-it'll still be no big."

Mariko stared at the ceiling in thought for a moment and then held out her little fist to Kim. "No big?" she asked.

"No big," Kim nodded as she knocked her fist against her friends'.

Both lay back down and smiled at the ceiling. The silence that followed was much more pleasant.

"Rufina?"

"Yes?"

"Do you like Rina?"

"Yes," Kim nodded. "I do, but I think she is very, very sad."

"Yeah," Mariko nodded.

"Do you know why she is sad, sweetie?"

"No."

"Maybe she misses her family," Kim suggested. Going to a boarding school, even under the best of circumstances, would have been unthinkable to Kim at Rina's age.

"She doesn't have a family," Mariko said.

"She doesn't?" Kim asked shocked.

"Uh-huh. No one at Yamanouchi does." Mariko explained. "Except me."

"Oh, I-I didn't know." Kim said sadly.

"Yeah, even my mommy," Mariko began normally and then finished hastily, "she didn't have a mommy or daddy, either."

"I'm sorry, Mariko." Kim said laying a hand on the little girl's shoulder.

The silence blossomed as the darkness of the night engulfed the cell.

"Rufina?"

"Yes?"

"Where," Mariko began with a deep breath, "where do you think my mommy is?"

"I don't know." Kim said.

"You know where I think she is?" Mariko said after a moment.

"Where?" Kim asked, looking through the darkness of the room toward the sound of her friend's voice.

"I think she is with some other little girl or boy. And she's their best friend just like you're mine."

"That's beautiful, Mariko." Kim said with a smile that couldn't be seen in the dark but could be heard and, more importantly, felt. After a moment, she added, "I hope you're right."

Either the night was overcast or the moon had not risen yet. The darkness in the cell seemed absolute to Kim.

"Rufina?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going out tonight?"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No, no. You can go."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you still worried about what you saw?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"I want you to go. No big."

Kim leaned over in the darkness until her lips found Mariko's forehead. She gave her a kiss, whispered goodnight, and then made her way to the window.

"I love you," Mariko said to the darkness. Then, as drowsiness finally overtook her, she mouthed, "Kaypea."

VIII.

Once Kim's feet landed on the ground, she hugged her shoulders to control the trembling that wracked her body. She took a couple of deep breaths and tried very hard not to cry. It had been so, so difficult to just sit there and smile while Ron and Mariko discussed their upcoming meeting with Sensei.

Ron had been so obviously proud of his little girl, and Mariko had been so excited. Each word they had spoken on the subject had felt like a blow against her heart.

It was clear that the snow job that evil man had pulled over her best friend was continuing and that his daughter would soon be swallowed up by his deceit as well. Kim needed to find something ... _something_ concrete that she could pass on to Mariko. Something that could hopefully convince Ron to get them both out of there. Perhaps the Eyes of the Mandrill were the key. However, Sensei more than likely had them hidden away. How could she and Mariko prove that the old man had them, let alone that Shego had stolen them at his behest? Besides that, she still needed to learn what they were exactly. For all she knew, they might serve a "higher purpose" that even Ron would find completely honorable.

Even thinking the word "honor" caused Kim pain.

Of course, that pain was a pale shadow to the anguish stirred by Mariko's heartbreaking question about her mother. Kim, however, was more than willing to live with this latter pain ... for as long as need be. The little girl's continued happiness was _so_ worth it.

As she gradually got herself back under control and rounded the corner of the building, Kim calculated how long she would have to complete her mission. Mariko's audience with Sensei would not be until three o'clock the next afternoon.

_More than eighteen hours, cool! Provided I'm here for all of them._

The cloud cover broke, and the night became bathed in the strangely off-blue light of a three-quarter moon.

As she sprinted into the courtyard, Kim breathed a relieved sigh. At least Mariko was now safely under Ron's protection. She had been so edgy all day to infiltrate the Keep, but she couldn't leave Mariko without Ron around. It wasn't that she didn't trust Rina, not exactly. However, a twelve-year-old couldn't exactly offer the best protection-especially if the danger was coming from people she undoubtedly considered her trusted superiors. As bamboozled as Ron was by "the Honorable Yamanouchi School," Kim knew he would always choose his daughter over Honor.

As for Rina, well, even though she _did_ like her, Kim didn't really know the girl.

Kim was within sight of the wooded grove that surrounded the Keep's base when a pair of figures rushed out across her path. Fortunately, she saw them soon enough to avoid a collision or to even hear their keening, if there was any to hear. Because of the moon's light and a fortuitous break in the shadows beneath the plum blossom trees, Kim was able see the the couple very clearly as they passed.

A slight but pretty girl was leading a shambling boy by the arm. They were both wearing black gis. The look on the girl's face was somewhat mischievous, and she was chewing her lower lip. The boy, however, looked nervous and definitely worried about something. For the briefest of instants, they reminded Kim of herself and Ron going on a mission so many years earlier. In fact, they looked to be about Kim and Ron's age sophomore year.

She stood and watched as their outlines faded into the tangle of shadows at the edge of the courtyard. Wherever they were headed, whatever they were up to, it certainly didn't look too "honorable," Kim mused with a smile.

_At least not_ _**ninja** _ _honorable._

Kim blinked away a melancholic thought, smiled at the fading memory of the couple, and hurried on her way.

IX.

"Stoppable-san! It is urgent! Stoppable-san!"

"Just a minute ... just a second. I-I'm coming!"

"Stoppable-san, hurry!"

"Yabuki-san! What is it? Please come inside."

"The Yamanouchi School is in dire need of the Chosen One."

"N-now?"

"Yes, Sensei has charged that I deliver this to you. You must follow the directions immediately."

"Uh ... mmmm ... mmmm … o-okay, I need to get Rina-"

"Rina-chan has already been summoned. She will look after your child's needs. Once she arrives, you must depart. The Honor of the Yamanouchi School depends upon it."

"Yabuki-san, did Sensei mention to you an appointment I have tomorrow-"

"Yes, Stopplable-san. However, he assured me this task, however vital, will not prove too challenging for the powers of the Chosen One. You shall return in plenty of time."

"Okay … may I have a word with Mariko? I don't want her to wake up and find-"

"Certainly, you may speak with your child."

X.

Kim sat upon the sloping southern roof of the Keep, looking out upon the endless view that undulated to the invisible sea. She dragged her senses from the soothing ebb and pull of the unseen waves and dejectedly kicked at a broken tile near her feet. In frustration, she kicked at the cracked piece twice more before remembering why it was not moving. So far, the night had been a bust.

Within the first hour of leaving Mariko's side, Kim believed she had discovered something important. Within the deeper woods beyond the Keep's western wall, a small cluster of pines sheltered a modest three-tiered pagoda. Unlike the central complex and what Kim had begun to think of as the school's two "dorms," this temple-like structure allowed Kim easy entry. When she first realized that the entranceway was open, she felt like breaking into a Mad Dog Cheer. Unfortunately, the building proved to be both empty and deserted.

The first floor was swallowed up by a large hall with smaller satellite rooms located at its four corners. However, Kim could not find a staircase that led to the upper levels. She closely examined their ceilings for a sign of a portal, however, ancient and disused. There was none. Other than this mystery, there was really nothing to note about the pagoda. All the rooms were blank and bare. The only ornamentation was a large mural painted at the back of the great hall that depicted the same scene Kim had noticed the night before upon the screen in the Keep. Again, she found her eyes being drawn to the blank space beneath the castle on the far left. As forsaken as the building appeared, it was strangely not in disrepair or neglected. In fact, Kim could not help noticing how immaculate it was. The floor reflected the moonlight, and she had not noticed a single cobweb as she had looked over the ceilings. The latter couldn't even be said for Ron's dwelling.

A thorough search of the grounds on the east and north sides of the Keep turned up nothing of interest. In fact, the only thing she found exceptional was how silent and empty the campus seemed. True, the school had seemed deserted the night before, but they had arrived in the dead of night. It was still fairly early in the evening, yet Kim saw no one.

And there were no sign of the monkey samurais.

She scaled the shorter southern wall of the Keep with little difficulty. However, only one of the windows in the high tower was not shuttered. Kim didn't lose heart, at least not immediately, because the open window was the one that faced north. If she had entered that room maybe five seconds earlier the night before, chances were she would have made it to the building's inner sanctums. As she sat down facing the room's door, she felt sure her luck would prove better this night.

_I'll sit here all night if that's what it takes._

As the minutes wore on, Kim, once again, found herself examining the painted design on the screen. However, instead of the blank space on the far left, her concentration started to gravitate to the band of ninjas on the far right. For some reason ...

_Something's ... not right there._

Kim got up and walked over to the screen. She kneeled down so she was only a few inches from its surface and looked over the ninjas one at a time. As she did so, she noted that the figures had a definite menacing demeanor about them. Finally, her eyes darted to the first ninja and noticed the throwing star in his upraised right hand.

_No way!_

Kim sprang to the window and ran down and along the western slope of the complex's roof.

She entered the pagoda's great hall out of breath, but didn't stop running until she reached the back wall. Her hunch had been correct.

Although the ninjas upon the wall were painted in postures almost identical to their counterparts on the screen, they definitely possessed a heroic rather than a sinister countenance. The artist had achieved this effect by adorning the hands of most of the assassins with lotus blossoms and by replacing the throwing star in the fist of the first killer with the lotus blade.

XI.

When she made it back to the tower some fifteen minutes later, Kim discovered that the window on the north face had been shuttered as well.

_Not again!_

She angrily made her way to the southern side of the tower and plopped down on the unresponsive tiles.

_Twice! I've let my best chance slip away twice!_

Then she recalled charging the rear door after Hirotaka.

_No, wait-three times!_

Staring at the boundless view at the rear of the campus helped calm Kim down, but she was still intensely frustrated. After her futile attempts to kick the tiles, Kim resolved to press on with her mission. She stood up and made her way down to the rear wall.

Once she landed in the small green field, Kim decided to inspect the woods edging the cliff but to keep within sight of the Keep's back door. If there were going to be another late night delivery she was determined to take full advantage of the opportunity.

_Who knows? Professor Dementor might show up tonight._

From what she could see, the woods were empty. And quiet. An extremely peaceful quiet. Then the breeze found her again.

Kim stopped and looked after the breeze as it wafted past her and through the trees. Framed in the overlapping branches was the light from a small dwelling in the mist-shrouded valley in the far distance. She lingered upon that small light for several moments, and she didn't look away until she noticed the moon in its flight off to her far right. Only then did Kim notice that she was crying.

As she dried her tears and tried to shake the strange mood from her, she mused off-handedly how beautiful Yamanouchi might be under different circumstances.

_What could this place be if Ron ran it? Or Mariko?_

She tried to shake the impossible notions from her mind and walked on.

After a few minutes, Kim looked up and realized she did not know where she was. Somehow she had absently walked into the deeper woods on the western edge of the Keep. In fact, she could just make out the spiral top of the pagoda among the tree line a hundred feet ahead of her.

_What are you doing, Possible? Aaargh!_

As she turned to race back to the small field, she heard light laughter coming from within the soft shadows to her left.

"And _that_ was what you were so frightened of doing?" the voice of a young girl taunted lightly.

"I love you," panted a young boy's voice desperately.

"Oh my gosh," Kim breathed, blushed, and then hurried away. Her embarrassment was only slightly mollified when she recalled that she couldn't be seen or heard. But then, just as she was almost out of earshot, Kim heard the boy say something that stopped her cold.

"It's a bond of honor now," he spoke, an edge perceptible in his desperate tone.

"I know. I know," the girl's voice, now suddenly sad, acknowledged.

"Now ... now you can never leave me," the boy said as if he had not heard her.

"Please. I know, but don't. Not now-"

"If you do, I-I'll kill you," the boy continued with desperate conviction.

"I know. I know," the girl repeated.

"And if you leave me and have children with someone else," the boy continued to ramble, "I'll kill them too."

"Please. I know. Please." The teenage girl's voice sounded as if it belonged to a small child.

XII.

Kim had been running so furiously that her heart felt as if it would explode. Her vision marred by tears, she continued running.

She tripped over something and hurtled and skid across the blossom-strewn courtyard. She finally came to rest sobbing and clutching her shoulders.

_How? How could anybody-how could anyone even_ _**think** _ _-_

Running through the forest, she had only thought of scooping up Mariko and carrying her as far away as she could from Yamanouchi. If such a place could poison two young people to such a horrific degree as she had just witnessed, there was simply no alternative. Mariko had to be rescued as soon as possible-no matter the consequences.

Once her crying was under control, she heard it.

She stumbled to her feet and raced to the entrance of Ron and Mariko's "dorm."

There, in the courtyard, clustered before their dwelling, sat at least a dozen monkey samurais. A few were intently watching the darkened home, a handful were throwing punches at one another, two were threatening a third with their swords, all were yowling and chittering hideously.

XIII.

Giving the horde a wide berth, Kim ran to the dwelling and leapt through the open window. Mariko's cell door was partially open, allowing the moon's bright light to illuminate the main room. As Kim got to her feet, she heard the child's booming snores and muttered a relieved "thank you." Then she noticed someone was lying in front of Mariko's door.

She walked cautiously up to the figure and realized that it was Rina asleep on a mat. Kim immediately shot a look down the darkened hallway-Ron's door was open. She was in the room in three steps. It was empty.

Kim hurried back down the hall, carefully stepped over the sleeping twelve-year-old, and entered the cell. It was all Kim to do to keep from gathering the little girl in her arms and hugging her as tightly as she could. Gently, she rubbed the little girl's shoulder. Mariko shifted but didn't open her eyes. She snored again. Kim realized absently that the child's snores more or less drowned out the ghastly sounds from outside. She rubbed Mariko's shoulder again and whispered, "Sweetie? Sweetie?"

"Huh?" Mariko managed, blinking up at Kim.

Kim whispered, "Can you close your door, sweetie?"

Mariko looked to the door and then back at Kim; she nodded groggily and stood up.

Kim felt guilty about disturbing her sleep, but something needed to be done _now_. Kim could "black out," perhaps forever, leaving the little girl defenseless.

_That's so not going to happen._

With difficulty, Mariko slid her door closed silently. She yawned and walked over to Kim.

"What is it," Mariko asked and then remembered to whisper, "Rufina?"

"Where's your daddy?" Kim whispered.

"He had to go on a trip," Mariko said through her cupped hand, "but he'll be back tomorrow."

"Mariko" Kim said as calmly and as cheerily as she could, "I know you're really tired, but I need you to do something ... something with me, okay?"

"Okay," Mariko nodded and yawned.

XIV.

A few hours later Mariko was dripping sweat and looked very, very tired. But she was smiling.

"How are you doing?" Kim's hushed voice asked.

Mariko sighed, wiped her brow, and said, "Okay."

"You look pretty tired. I think that's enough. Go to sleep, sweetie."

"Rufina?" the little girl asked as she lay down.

"Yes?"

"Can we do this again?"

"If you want, sweetheart." Kim smiled.

Mariko nodded, mumbled an unintelligible phrase that included the word "fun," and within seconds was asleep.

Kim lay down beside Ron's sleeping, exhausted daughter and tried to block out the spectral monkey howls that were still audible between the girl's snores. It was highly unlikely that Kim would be able to teach Mariko all sixteen styles of kung fu, but she would teach her all that she could in whatever time she had left.

* * *

_TBC ..._

**A/N:** I must confess to "secret borrowing" the subject matter of the two students' conversation in section XI from page sixty-one of Sir Salman Rushdie's novel _Shalimar the Clown_.


	15. Fourteen

I.

The hours before dawn were restless and hollow.

The din of howls and screeches from the courtyard had not let up for even a moment. During the few hours she had been training with Mariko, Kim had been able to push them out of her mind with relative ease. However, once the little girl fell asleep, the samurais' cries-save for the blissful moments when the child's snores blocked them out-overwhelmed Kim's senses. The hideous noises they made, coupled with the knowledge that _they_ were still out there waiting mere feet from the sleeping child, made Kim unbearably anxious.

Strangely, the sensation reminded her of when she was seven and had landed feet-first in an ant mound at the base of the tree that would one day support Ron's tree house. Although the numerous ant bites she had received along her left calf had stung and had certainly stressed out Ron, they hadn't been that big of a deal to her. However, the feeling of the hundreds of pairs of skeletal feet brushing against her bare skin _**had**_ been a big deal. Shuddering slightly, Kim had tried to lose this memory within the cavernous echo of Mariko's snores. There, she had found a measure of relief, however intermittent.

Even in these brief moments of respite, dread steered her thoughts. Why were there so many of them out there? The night before when both Ron and Mariko had been home, only two guards had been posted. And they both departed once they were sure The Chosen One and his daughter were asleep.

The answer was obvious: Mariko's powers. What was it about a child her age gaining mystical powers that Yamanouchi found so … threatening? And where was Ron? Kim had no doubts that his "trip" had been arranged to get him out of the way. But that conviction only produced other, darker thoughts.

As unnerving as the chittering made her, Kim listened to it attentively, trying to detect any change that might indicate that the warriors might be preparing a siege.

And what about Ron? Perhaps, there was something more sinister about his sudden departure than she had first suspected.

_Oh, where are you Ron? Please, please be okay._

It was within this miasma of doubts and fears that Kim passed the remainder of the night.

With painful slowness, the uniformity of the night's sky finally began to blend into the ever-changing hues of dawn. Kim could just make out the first streaks of amethyst edging the sky in the corner of Mariko's window when she heard Rina stir from behind the cell's closed door.

Although she knew she couldn't be seen or heard, Kim reflexively stilled her breathing and remained completely motionless. The pale vague outline of the door slid to the left and the dark figure of the twelve-year-old entered the room. She leaned over the sleeping child, lingered a moment, and then silently exited the room-leaving the door open-and lied down again upon her mat.

Kim watched sympathetically as the girl's form shifted restlessly over the next twenty minutes or so. It was clear that as soothing as Kim might have found Mariko's out-sized snores, their cacophony did not have the same effect upon everyone.

_If you could hear what I do, Rina, you would so appreciate her snores._

Although the open door did make the demonic clamor a great deal louder, Kim was willing to deal since the morning would soon banish the samurais back to the Keep or whereveritwas they spent their days. Subsequently, the next forty minutes or so were spent more or less pleasantly. She gazed at Mariko's sleeping face as the day slowly lightened the room. Occasionally, she would turn over and watch the sky change from deep blue to burgundy to amber. Absently, the thought crossed Kim's mind that staying awake twenty-four hours a day and babysitting full-time might not be such a bad way to spend a life, or a second one.

Finally, it was full morning, and her mildly hopeful mood disintegrated.

The samurais had not left. In fact, they seemed to be growing louder.

Why had she assumed they would disperse or even vanish with daybreak?

_Are they vampires, Possible?_

She shook off her ill mood as Mariko shifted on her mat. The little girl rubbed her chin and then sleepily turned so that she faced KimFor a second it looked as if she was going to open her eyes; however, the child only yawned. Midway through, the yawn morphed into a snore; Mariko was still fast asleep.

Kim sighed. She had no idea how she was going to protect Mariko from the dangers outside. With what little training she had given her, Ron's daughter could possibly frighten or, at the least, irritate one of the demonic monkeys. She had no chance, however, against the entire swarm.

_What if they're just waiting for her to step outside? I can't keep her locked inside for the rest of her life!_

Just as Kim began to wonder wildly about where her best friend might be, the morning became suddenly and disarmingly ... quiet.

Kim was unsure whether to take the silence as a good sign or as a terrible one. She measured the silence in the number of breaths she took. Once she reached the count of thirty, she relaxed somewhat.

_Maybe they've finally gone._

She looked back down at her sleeping friend, and then tenderly brushed back the sweat-clotted hair from one of the little girl's cheeks and proceeded to yelp and jump out of her skin when a sharp rapping sound echoed through the dwelling.

"Wha-what's happening?" Mariko asked in a groggily-nervous voice. As it had two nights earlier, Kim's startled cry had jolted the little girl.

Kim tried to get her thoughts together. "It's-it's … okay," Kim began, trying simultaneously to comfort the girl as well as verify that her soothing message was correct. The noise had certainly awakened Rina-she had quickly flung herself from the mat and sprinted to the dwelling's front door.

Kim's eyes followed Rina's rapid course and that was when she first noticed the very familiar outline waiting behind the door's screen.

"Yabuki-san," Rina said tremulously as she, in one fluid movement, slid open the door, backed away to give the visitor entrance and bowed to him.

"So that's what your last name is," Kim said in a cold voice.

"Huh?" Mariko asked looking up at her friend. She shot a confused look toward the door and then immediately stood up and bowed toward the visitor. Her posture and deference mirrored Rina's.

Without acknowledging either girl with a returned bow, a slight nod, or even a turn of his head-his eyes rigidly staring at an empty space some three feet above Mariko and two feet to the right of Kim-Hirotaka commanded in a single, hushed breath, "Rina-chan, prepare the daughter of The Chosen One; Master Sensei requests her presence immediately."

"It will be my honor, Yabuki-san," Rina said, still bowed. Swiftly, she crossed the space of the living area in three very long strides and quickly closed Mariko, Kim, and herself up in the girl's small cell.

The last thing Kim saw before the screen door shut them inside was a glimpse of Hirotaka's glistening yet completely passionless eyes.

When her gaze fell back upon Mariko, the child was hidden in a swirl of clothing as Rina quickly, efficiently, desperately hurried her out of her night kimono. Once the little girl was undressed, Rina skirted to a small drawstring bag lying in the corner to the left of the door.

As Kim turned her attention from the frenetic movements of the young girl back to her friend, she realized almost as an afterthought that Mariko was completely, unabashedly naked. What she noticed first was that the child was beaming up at her.

"Sensei wants to see me now!" she whispered excitedly.

"Mariko-chan!" Rina spoke in a shocked, harsh tone.

Her voice had, in fact, startled all three of them. The young girl shook her head and then approached Mariko quickly, but with a gentle air. "You must not bring dishonor to yourself," she urged in whisper as she took up Mariko's right hand. "Especially, when you are before Yabuki-san and Master Sensei." She looked into Mariko nervously darting eyes and then moved her hand from Mariko's palm to her cheek, giving it a gentle stroke. "Please, please, _**please**_ do not speak to this person ... _this friend_ of yours anymore." She paused and gave Mariko's shoulder a firm squeeze. "It is for your own good that I tell you this."

Rina's voice had been only a gentle whisper, yet Mariko winced with every word that fell. Finally, Mariko looked directly into Rina's eyes, and her own eyes widened with grave seriousness. She then acknowledged the young girl's wish with a nod.

Satisfied that she had made the seriousness of the issue understood, Rina returned the nod and then briskly went back to ready Mariko's clothes.

The moment the twelve-year-old's back was turned, however, the naked child leaned over to her left, almost to the point of losing her balance, and gave the knuckles of Kim's right hand a gentle, reassuring knock of her fist.

II.

Rina was literally spiraling Mariko into her best kimono. Although the scene was inherently comical and the little girl did nothing to mitigate its foolishness by giggling with every-or at least every other-twirl, Rina remained somber throughout, her steadfast expression broken only now and again by moments of exasperation as she urged Mariko to hush.

"It tickles," Mariko explained with a weak smile, "I'm sorry."

When Rina looked away to collect the pins for Mariko's hair, the little girl shot a semi-surreptitious look Kim's way only to discover that Kim wasn't looking at her. Instead, her friend was staring intently at the cell's door. She then noticed that Kim was agitatedly drumming her fingers against her right pants' leg.

As excitable and as giddy as Mariko felt that morning, the sight of her friend could not help but sadden her. There was something about the way Kim was standing or, perhaps, a strange feeling Mariko could read in the air all about Kim that reminded her of how her daddy had acted, how he had been, in the days just before her mommy died.

She wanted so badly to ask what was the matter, but she couldn't-not now.

"Thank you, Mariko-chan," Rina whispered when she noticed the child's newly muted features. "This is how you need to look for Master Sensei." She gave the child a squeeze upon her shoulder. "Such a face will gain you honor!"

III.

_Head ... in ... the ... game, Possible. Head in the game._

There was nothing about the abrupt change of events that Kim liked. Dozens of unpleasant scenarios crowded her head. Her confidence slipping away, Kim knew she had to focus on something ... anything or very soon she would begin to panic. The only thing she could focus on, however, was the opaque screen of the cell's door.

If only she was on the other side of the screen! She might not be able to figure out the game Hirotaka was playing, but she could, at the very least, stick her head out of the dwelling's windows to see if those hideous simi-samur- _samurians_ were still out in the courtyard, or turned into ugly troll-like statues, or were simply gone.

Kim was so preoccupied with things that she was powerless to change that she became unfocused about everything else. In fact, she only half-registered Rina's keening as the girl approached to open the cell door. If Kim had noticed a few seconds later, she wouldn't have had the chance to step out of her way and probably would have ended up ricocheting about the small room.

Kim stood back while Rina slid the door open and led Mariko into the larger room. Kim glanced down at her friend's back and let her gaze linger a half-second upon her fine garments. She reminded herself to tell Mariko how nice she looked sometime later if she had a chance.

As she entered the larger room, she bent down so as to see out the small gaps at the base of the dwelling's open windows. From what little she could see, the courtyard appeared to be monkey-warrior-free. She then cast a cold look upon Hirotaka. He was still creepily staring at some fixed space toward the back of Mariko's cell.

"Rina-chan," he said abruptly, "remain here and await the child's return." His eyes did not alter from their previous focal point as he spoke.

"It will be my honor, Yabuki-san," Rina managed and bowed.

With effortless swiftness that could not help but remind Kim of the Lotus-style kung fu he had tried out upon her Sophomore year, Hirotaka moved two feet to the left of the open door. "Proceed, child," his monotone voice instructed Mariko.

Mariko hesitated a second, but then her small form walked steadily into the burgeoning morning sunlight. Before Kim could follow, Hirotaka, with mercury reflexes, took up a position right behind the little girl.

She easily avoided contact with him and noted that despite his close proximity to her, there had been, once again, no keening emanating from him.

_Keening? Waitaminute-Rina?_

As she edged behind Horitaka, Kim shot a look back into the living area at the still-bowed twelve-year-old. A few minutes earlier, she had indeed heard mild shrieks when Rina had gotten within a few inches of her. However, she quickly shook this mystery from her mind and ran around Hirotaka to keep step with Mariko.

"Proceed left, child," the ninja stated flatly.

As Kim walked a little behind and to the right of Mariko, she couldn't help noticing a tension in the little girl's posture. It seemed both out of place and, at the same time, utterly familiar to her. A cloud shifted across her mind as she realized where she had seen or felt that tension before-Ron's body had been wracked with it those first few days she had been to Yamanouchi.

_Mariko was so thrilled earlier-what could have happened in the past few minutes?_

"To the right, child."

Kim shot the ninja a dirty look over her shoulder. She so didn't like him walking behind Mariko.

_Keeping tabs on her every move. Waitaminute-_

Kim mentally cursed herself. She had forgotten completely about the samurians. Quickly, she scanned the small courtyard and all the edges of the complex's roof. There were no signs and no sounds of the hideous warriors.

"Left, child," Hirotaka flatly directed Mariko down the "dorm's" entranceway.

As they made there way through the tunnel's semi-darkness, Kim got a few steps ahead of her friend and gave her a reassuring look. Mariko's eyes stayed fixed straight ahead. That didn't concern Kim; she knew the little girl was doing her best not to draw any undue attention to her. What did concern Kim was how the look in the child's eyes radiated with the same sad intensity she had read in her posture a few moments earlier.

Kim could take it no longer. She reached out and lightly touched Mariko's shoulder. As the girl made eye contact with Kim, the change in her demeanor was instantaneous. Mariko visibly relaxed her shoulders; her eyes brightened. And, as the stepped back into the light, she gave Kim a sideways grin.

"Turn to the right, child."

Walking across the petal-littered main courtyard, Kim had the difficult task of scanning for possible dangers (including but not limited to the demonic monkeys) in that wide-open space without looking like she was doing so. Now that she had relieved Mariko of her inexplicable sadness, Kim did not want to do anything that might make worry or fear take its place.

Worrying was entirely Kim's prerogative at this point.

"Hurry up, child." For the first time that morning, there was a human tone in Hirotaka's voice-impatience.

Immediately, Mariko's sunny spirit wilted.

_Lotus kung fu or no lotus kung fu, if I were alive right now I'd lay you out on your biscuit-jerk!_

She took a couple of breaths and then placed her hand lightly upon Mariko's head. Once she had eye contact, she gave the girl a conspiratorial smile. These gestures improved Mariko's mood ... somewhat.

Kim's mood, however, continued to darken. It grew more and more obvious that Hirotaka was directing Mariko toward the forest. Although she was relieved that their destination was not the fortified and security-laden Keep, Kim was not pleased with what she supposed to be their destination. Once they passed the first couple of trees on the woods' outer edge, Kim's foreboding intensified. Among the tops of the pines directly ahead of them, she could just make out the jagged spire of the pagoda.

IV.

Kim took some solace from the fact that the temple's lower windows were still propped open. She seriously did not like the idea of Mariko being closed up in any strange structure-especially without Ron nearby. Under these circumstances, however, Kim could still escape with the child in her arms if the sitch demanded something like hurtling through a window. Regardless, the heavy wooden doors that barred the main entranceway gave Kim a very bad feeling.

"Go no further, child," Hirotaka commanded when they were, perhaps, fifteen feet from the entrance.

As they waited for the ninja's next instruction, Kim thought she heard something. It was coming from the temple's second story. Her eyes darted across the closed shutters and along the eaves. No visible signs of anything unusual, and her ears only found the breeze through the pine needles. Then she heard it again, from behind them. She turned just in time to catch the red glow fading from Hirotaka's dull pupils. The creaking of the massive doors momentarily drew her attention away from him. The doors appeared to be opening by themselves, but Kim could discern a slight reddish aura pulsing about their hinges.

Kim rolled her eyes, dismissively blew a few strands of hair from her forehead, and gave Mariko a light, consoling pat on the back. She was so unimpressed with Yamnouchi's parlor tricks, especially when they were being utilized to fill a five-year-old with shock and awe.

Mariko gave Kim a quick look. As Kim feared, her friend's eyes were beading with nervousness. To combat this, Kim gave her a wink.

Hirotaka's voice cut across the air. "Enter, child. Master Sensei should not be kept waiting."

Mariko took a deep breath and then walked with small but determined steps toward the dark, yawning entrance.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mariko," Kim whispered. "It's going to be okay."

Mariko answered with a relieved sigh.

As they entered, Kim immediately went into mission mode. Things had most definitely changed in the hall since the night before, and none of them boded well.

V.

Strangely, the flickering candlelight when coupled with the daylight streaming in from the swung open shutters gave the room a dim, shadowy ambiance. The excessively-flowing, deep burgundy curtains that had been draped across every bare space of wall didn't help, either. Even the stone floor had not been left unadorned-mosaic fringed carpets of the same overbearing hue as the curtains had been laid down in random crisscrossed patterns.

Snaking through this overlay of gaudy rugs was a small strip of walk-space that revealed the floor's cold, stone surface. On either side of the path, ornamental candlesticks as tall as Kim produced muddy light that seemed to absorb, rather than produce, the light in the surrounding air. The filigree about the holders' bases was, of course, simian in nature, but also had a flavor of the sub-continent as well. In fact, Kim soon realized that the patchwork ostentation of the entire room had a decidedly non-Japanese ring to it.

The air was stifling. It had been warm outside, but the temperature seemed to jump twenty degrees once they entered the room. And the windows did not seem to be letting in any breeze. Kim looked sympathetically down at her friend. There was no way Mariko wasn't uncomfortable wrapped in those multiple layers.

At the end of the winding walk space, couched just before the grand mural was a large, canopied dais. Adorned with those same curtains the color of dried blood and littered with plush pillows of the same wretched hue, it looked more fitting for a sultan than for the mystic leader of an "honorable" ninja school. In the center of this decadent setting, levitating in an orb of glowing vermillion, was Sensei.

Kim had only seen Sensei exhibit what Ron referred to as his "mystical floaty trick" once before. She was certain, however, that on that previous occasion the orb had been blue.

This display, however, wasn't the strangest sight in the hall. Rather, it was the stand-up electrical fan that was placed to the left of the dais. The fan oscillated back and forth on its stand, but, remained, even at the extremes of its range, aimed at Sensei. When the stream of air hit him directly, it made the right side of the orbvibrate and created a mild, temporary dent in its surface. Some of the breeze must have been getting through at these moments because Kim could see the edges of his beard stir ever so slightly.

The comical extravagance of this scene only embittered Kim more as she reflected upon Mariko and Ron's meager quarters, and their paltry meal from the previous evening.

Kim' weirdar had been pinging like crazy since even before thy entered the building. Unfortunately, she couldn't pinpoint from where the ill vibes were coming. Perhaps everywhere. There weren't any signs of the samurians, thankfully. Even so, Kim stuck to Mariko like glue. At any moment she was prepared to snatch up Ron's little girl and take off for the nearest window.

As they approached the dais, Sensei appeared to be deep in meditation. He was sitting, or floating rather, in the lotus position with his eyes shut. It was actually his eyes that tipped Kim off that something was amiss. They were clenched tight-their lids furrowed, rather than relaxed.

Once Mariko stepped within ten feet of the platform, the orb began to ebb into nothingness, and the school's master gently eased down upon a rather massive pillow. He opened his hooded eyes to slits.

Kim sympathetically watched Mariko's nervous mouth open silently twice. Then she fumbled, "Master Sensei" and bowed to her father's master.

"Daughter of The Chosen One." Sensei's voice emanated from his full beard.

Immediately, Kim noticed something strange about the man's voice. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but Sensei sounded ... _odd_.

Silence permeated the room for what seemed like several minutes. All that could be heard was the clicking of the fan as it reached the ends of its rotation and began to swing back the opposite way. Unfortunately, Mariko was not standing in the path of its refreshing breeze. The little girl, still bowed, started to totter on her left foot and had to readjust herself. As the moments ticked by, the lengthening daylight from the windows only made the interior of the hall seem darker.

Kim was still eyeing the hall and the old man nervously. Her weirdar had not let up. Still, she was starting to get tweaked. How long was Sensei going to make her friend stay in such an awkward, uncomfortable position? Is this all he wanted, to lord himself over Ron's child?

_Well? If you aren't going to say anything to her why did you drag her out here at the crack of dawn?_

"Mariko-chan," Sensei's voice echoed through the churning of the fan and into the far corners of the hall. "Of the hues of the rainbow, which gives you the most pleasure?"

_You have so got to be kidding me!_

Mariko, too, seemed somewhat confused by the simplistic nature of the question. She flashed a furtive look in the direction of Kim's legs-the only part of her friend that she could see from her bowing position. "Master Sensei, green is my-gives me pleasure, uh, the most."

The old man fidgeted within his robs, and then stroked his beard with a calculated "relaxed" gesture. And said nothing for several more minutes.

As she and Mariko waited, Kim realized she had begun to really hate the color of her surroundings. The burgundy had irritated her when they had first entered. Now, however, this annoyance had blossomed into loathing. It was really starting to revolt her.

The old man turned his head to the side and continued to stroke his beard. Kim didn't believe he had even listened to the girl's reply. Yet, she knew his eyes never left her.

He let the breeze from his fan ruffle his beard and eyebrows once more, and, finally, he spoke.

"More than gold, long life, and the love of friends, what is valued most in this world, Mariko-chan?"

Kim braced herself for the answer she knew was coming, a word far more sickening then their gaudy surroundings.

"Honor," the little girl said happily, "Master Sensei, honor."

Sensei nodded. And then he sent Mariko away.

As Kim walked beside Mariko toward the exit, she looked back to see Sensei resume the lotus position and return to floating in his red bubble.

She really had no idea what had just happened. However, now that it was over, one thing about Mariko's "interview" did disturb her.

She had recognized what it was about Sensie's voice that seemed odd when he first spoke: there had been a touch of anxiety in it.

Yet, when he gave Mariko leave, there was no trace of unease evident in his voice.

VI.

The heaviness of the air seemed to follow them back out into the day. The morning sky seemed coated with a dingy haze, and Kim noticed a patch of dark clouds off in the eastern distance.

Kim could tell Mariko was confused and even a little disappointed by her meeting with Sensei. However, she knew she couldn't console her friend until they were back in her cell and alone. As he had before, Hirotaka walked behind them, directing the little girl's movements. Kim so didn't like him back there-it felt like he was stalking Mariko.

And then there were the samurians to worry about. Kim still hadn't seen the first sign of them, but that was no reason to let down her guard. True, the pinging of her weidar got fainter and fainter the further they got from the pagoda. Still, something about the day felt _off_ … felt wrong.

As they crossed the main courtyard, Kim thought over Mariko's response to Sensei's second question. She had spoken with the fumbling excitement and pride of a small child who guesses the right answer to a question she knows she shouldn't be able to answer. Mariko, obviously, did not know the full implications of "honor" being more valuable than the love of one's friends. In fact, Kim doubted that the little girl knew what "honor" even meant beyond being the "very best thing" in her world. How long, Kim wondered sadly, before such innocence got perverted and drowned by the school.

Then she remembered Rina's warning from the day before-Mariko was to begin classes in only a few weeks.

_You'll be gone by then. I promise._

The journey back to the dwelling was uneventful. And their "home" looked as it had less than an hour earlier. The only noticeable change was that Mariko's window was filling with violent, black clouds.

VII.

Kim sat crouched in the corner near the window, her hands upon her bent knees as Rina changed Mariko into a much lighter, more casual, kimono. Hirotaka had left almost immediately following their return to the dwelling. As far as Kim was concerned, his abrupt departure was very welcome indeed.

_How could I have ever crushed on such a jerk?_

The arrival of the rain interrupted the chain of bitter thoughts running through Kim's head. The cool, moist smell that wafted into the room reminded her of the monsoon she and Ron had been caught in during that Mumbai mission early senior year. The mission had something to do with a missing Bollywood film reel, but she couldn't remember all the details. All she could remember was the chutney Ron wanted to take back to Middleton; he was going to try mixing it with some of the five-alarm diablo sauce he still had stashed away. She smiled vaguely at the memory. Then a few drops blew through the window, skirted around her cheek, and dropped to the floor. The sound of the rain beating upon Mariko's half-open shutter recalled the Silver gazebo.

"What are you thinking, Rufina?" Mariko whispered as she walked up to the window.

Kim smiled a little self-consciously and looked toward the door. It was shut, and Rina was gone. The rain must have covered the noise of the door sliding open and close. She patted the space on floor right in front of her and spread her knees as Mariko plopped down between them. She wrapped her arms about the little girl's chest and gave her a gentle hug. The warmth from Mariko's body was very, very soothing. "I was just thinking about your daddy," Kim whispered as the image of Ron dodging hailstones from a day long ago faded against his daughter's wall. "I hope he isn't getting soaked."

"Daddy will be okay," Mariko said confidently. She lay her head against Kim's right knee.

The little girl had forgotten to whisper, but Kim decided that the rain would be enough to muffle her voice so long as she didn't speak too loudly.

They both remained quiet as the rain continued to drum against the dorm's outer walls and handfuls of drops leafed through Mariko's hair.

"Why did Sensei want to know my favorite color?" Mariko asked finally.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Kim said. Then she added, "It did seem a funny question to ask."

Mariko tilted her head back so she could look Kim in the eyes. "You don't like Sensei, do you?"

Kim was taken aback. But in the two seconds she hesitated, she resolved to be honest to the little girl ... at least as honest as she could be.

"No," Kim said closing her eyes. "I don't."

"Why?" Mariko's voice sounded slightly wounded.

"Because," Kim explained, her eyes still closed, "I think he is too hard on you and your daddy." Which was true if not the Truth.

When she opened her eyes, Mariko's face was clouded in confusion.

"But," Kim said hurriedly, "right now I am really angry with Yabuki-san. I didn't like the way he spoke to you this morning."

"Oh," Mariko said. She lowered her head and looked out the window. Then she said casually, "He doesn't like me."

"What?" Kim asked.

Mariko tiled her head back again and said absently, "He never liked me. Even when I was a baby."

"How do you know that, sweetheart?" Kim said after a moment's shock. "He didn't tell you that, did he?" As her temper rose so did the pitch of her voice.

"No, my mommy told me." Mariko explained. "He wanted me to be a boy."

Kim was flabbergasted. The idea that someone could hate a baby because of her gender, that he would make his distaste for the child known to her mother, and _then_ that the child's mother would actually tell her about it!

_What is wrong with this place?!_

"Mariko-chan," Rina said, "we should close the shutters. The rain is getting in and the wind is starting to pick up."

Once again, Kim had not heard the cell's door open. She let out a brief sigh of relief. It was lucky Mariko hadn't been sitting in her lap. To Rina, the child would have appeared to be levitating.

_I'm going to have to watch that._

Kim stood and carefully inched out of the way as Rina came over to assist Mariko with unhitching and closing the shutter.

"Oh, no! Mariko-chan," Rina said as she turned to the little girl, "your hair is dripping." She turned and hurried to the drawstring bag in the corner.

Anticipating what the older girl intended, Mariko walked after her and obediently offered her head to the towel that was being held out to her.

The most unsettling thing about the little girl's bombshell for Kim was how nonchalant Mariko had seemed. It was horrible but true. This five-year-old girl had accepted that someone hated her with the same certainty that she had accepted that the sky was blue or that the sun would rise every morning,

A lightning strike split the air just outside the window and caused Kim, for the second time that day, to cry out. This time, however, Mariko wasn't startled by her friend because the rolling of the thunder drowned out all sound for the next twenty seconds.

Then another strike landed nearby. And then another. The violent interplay between the flashes and their corresponding thunderclaps lasted for a good ten minutes. It was by far the most brutal thunderstorm Kim had ever experienced. Several times, she found herself reflexively covering her ears to prepare for the next blast.

Rina and Mariko, however, barely took notice of the storm. In fact, the only flashes of concern from the child were directed at Kim's reactions . Otherwise, the two girls went about drying off Mariko's hair and the top half of her kimono as if such volcanic displays were a daily routine at the school.

VIII.

The violence quickly passed over the mountain, leaving only a steady, gentle rain in its wake. The shutter remained closed, but the lulling pulse of the drops permeated the little girl's cell.

After Rina returned to her book in the main room, Mariko slid her door closed and returned to her spot in Kim's relaxed embrace. She had only been sitting for a few moments when her head went slack against her friend's right leg.

_Uh-oh. I know what's coming next._

Within thirty seconds, Kim felt a sensation of dampness seep through her pants' leg around her bent knee-the spot where Mariko had inclined her head, The feeling expanded and was joined almost immediately by the child's rumbling snore. Kim rolled her eyes. Mariko was so much like her father.

Ron used to drool on her all the time when they were kids. At first it happened on sleep overs when Ron would pass out while trying to bury his face into her shoulder to avoid seeing the scary parts of movies. Kim thought it was gross at the time, but accepted it. They were best friends after all. When they grew older, she thought it was just gross. In a crowded movie theater, his snores were embarrassing enough but then if their neighbors noticed the drool stain on her blouse ... _Ewww!_

She reflected now, however, that it was still kinda nice that he would feel so comfortable and easy with her that he could do that. Nice, but still gross.

Of course, Mariko was still just a little girl, so the nice elements overruled whatever "grossness" there was. However, as comforting as the warm weight of the sleeping child felt, Kim knew it would not due for Rina to discover the little girl sleeping, propped up in such an impossible position.

"Sweetie? Sweetie?"

"Huh?" Mariko said, wiping her chin.

"If you need to take a nap, we should probably get out your mat."

"Nuh-uh," Mariko yawned as she tried to blink herself awake. "I have to stay up for daddy. I-I need to see Sensei again."

"It's okay," Kim said, smiling back the anxiety Mariko's statement had awoken, "I'll wake you up when he gets back." Then she added, "You probably need your rest since I kept you up late last night."

Mariko's eyes flashed wide, "Oh yes, Rufina! Let's play that again!"

Kim admonished the little girl with a low "shhh!" Although the rain was apparently muffling her voice, nothing could keep Rina from hearing the girl's excited cries.

"Sorry," Mariko whispered.

"We probably shouldn't play that while Rina can hear us," Kim explained. "Would you like to play something else?"

After a moment's thought, Mariko asked happily, "Old Maid?"

"Did your daddy bring those cards back to Yamanouchi?" Kim asked, genuinely puzzled. Considering his decision on that toy from Bueno Nacho, she couldn't see Ron sneaking a card game into the school.

"No," the little girl shook her head. Suddenly, she smiled and climbed to her feet. "We can make some."

"Huh?"

"Come on," Mariko took Kim's wrist in both hands and gave it an excited pull.

Kim was gently tugged to her feet. She followed Mariko out of her room, down the hall and into Ron's cell. The little girl made a beeline for the corner opposite her father's door. On the floor was a very small case. It was made of wood nearly the same color as the floorboards and was barely two-inches high. It would have been very easy to miss. Mariko kneeled down before it and carefully lifted its hinged lid.

Kim leaned over, her hands on her knees, and looked over her friend's shoulder. The interior was lined with a silk-like fabric of muted red. There was a stack of white paper, a couple of pencils, a sharpener, and ... Kim caught her breath.

"Hey!" Mariko whispered happily as she picked up the picture, "It's you!"

"Yes," Kim said finally. "Yes, it is."

She gazed at the wallet-sized photo. Almost immediately, she realized that it was the same picture she had seen Ron holding that night back in Middleton. She hadn't known that he had brought it back to Yamanouchi. And she had not suspected that in the image she was wearing the same outfit ... the same outfit that she had been wearing ever since ... ever since she arrived.

Kim exchanged a smile with Mariko, and the little girl carefully placed the picture back in the case.

"What does your father use this paper for?"

"He writes letters," Mariko said picking up three and then four sheets.

"To your Bubbe?"

"Un-huh," the little girl said picking up one of the pencils and shutting the case.

As they left the room, Kim noticed that the eraser end of the pencil looked like it had been chewed. She smiled and shook her head. She hoped that those were only Ron's teeth marks, and his daughter had yet to inherit all of his Ronnish habits.

"Mariko-chan," Rina said before Mariko and Kim could re-enter the smaller room. "What were you doing in your father's room?" Even before learning the answer, Rina was walking toward them firmly with her arm extended to take the papers.

"It's for a surprise!" the little girl beamed back.

Kim didn't expect Rina to accept this answer. But she did. The twelve-year-old hesitated and then her features softened almost to the point of a smile. And she nodded and went back to her book.

For the next hour or so, Kim helped Mariko make a pack of Old Maid cards. Of course, it wasn't a full pack. They had to settle for twenty-three "cards" (twelve pair, one Old Maid and one blank card-sized piece of paper left over). Kim tried her best to recall all of the characters from the original set, but, eventually, she found it best to let Mariko come up with her own characters. Mariko's drawings were very, very good. Kim wondered how often the little girl had delved into her father's paper stock and if her mother had ever known about this hobby. Although she didn't think Mariko would keep something from her mother, Kim also didn't believe that Yori would have approved of her daughter spending so much time with such an honor-less activity. What impressed Kim the most was the little girl's shading. Even though every figure was drawn in pencil, they did not look like they were only one color.

_What this girl could do with a box of crayons!_

It was sort of difficult for Kim to identify the figures. Although they were more or less uniform with very expressive facial features, she really didn't know what they were. If she had to guess, they looked like a cross between Rufus and a fish. From years of baby sitting children even younger than Mariko, Kim knew not to ask what the little girl was drawing. She only gave advice when Mariko asked for for her help.

"What does her dress look like?"

"The Old Maid?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, it's long and black … a-and she has all those cats."

"Yes! The kitties!"

"Shhh!" Kim warned with smile.

"Oh, right, sorry." Mariko whispered.

After Mariko had drawn all the pictures, Kim showed her how to fold the sheets many, many times over, so they would be easy to tear into cards without ripping. Although some of the cards had jagged corners, they looked pretty good. When Mariko opened her door, Kim noticed the shutters had been opened in the main room. The slant of the shadows suggested it was already mid-afternoon.

Kim had forgotten how doing simple enjoyable things could eat up a day. It had been one of the reasons she enjoyed babysitting so much. With the right child, it almost seemed as if she were being paid to play.

Mariko kneeled down in from of Rina and showed her the "surprise." The older girl dutifully looked away from her book, but kept it open against her bent knees. At first, Rina seemed agitated with what Mariko had done with her father's papers, but as Mariko happily explained what each card was, her apprehension ebbed away. Nevertheless, Kim still had her doubts that the older girl would actually play a hand or two with Mariko.

_Has she_ _**ever** _ _played a game in her life?_

Mariko continued to chat about the different characters and then began to explain what she could remember of the rules. She shot Kim a few questioning looks when she wasn't sure what she was saying was correct. Fortunately, the twelve-year-old was too intent upon the cards to notice these furtive glances, so Kim was free to nod or shake her head. Then, quite unexpectedly, Rina closed her book and laid it faced down upon the floor.

_Boo-yah!_

The first game was a little rough. Rina forgot to keep her cards face down on a couple of occasions, but Mariko tried her best not to look or, at the very least, tried to forget what she had seen. Other than that, the only "problem" was Rina's confusion with the use of the phrase "Go fish" when a player picked an extra card.

"I dunno," Mariko shrugged, "that's just what you say."

"And the people on the cards look kinda like fish, too," Kim added helpfully.

"Huh?" Mariko asked puzzled. Then she smiled broadly, "They do, they do!"

"'They do' what, Mariko-chan?" Rina said looking up from her cards.

"The people look like fish," Mariko explained.

"Oh," Rina nodded, "I see. Yes. I understand now."

Kim couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw something akin to a smile break over the twelve-year-old's face at that moment.

As the girls continued their game, Kim glanced out the window and watched the sunlight dying on the vacant courtyard. She realized it had been hours since she last fretted over where Ron was. He must have been gone at least twelve hours! As a wave of equal parts guilt and dread began to overwhelm her, Kim shut her eyes and tried to will the encroaching panic away. It would do no good, she reminded herself, for Mariko to see her get so upset. Besides ...

_Besides, what can you do anyway, Possible?_

This last thought overpowered her anxiety but left her thoroughly depressed as well.

"Go fish," Rina said.

"Hey!" Mariko announced as she looked at the card she had taken from Rina's hand. "I-I won!" She excitedly showed her final pair to the older girl , and then looked happily at Kim who was gently clapping. When she looked back at her opponent, a frown creased her features. "I'm sorry, Rina, I guess you lost."

Rina nodded without sadness.

"Do you want to play again?"

"Yes, Mariko-chan," Rina nodded again. "I would."

Soon after the second game began, it started drizzle outside. Kim turned her thoughts from the darkening sky and tried to focus on the game. Things went pretty much as they had the first time around. In the end Rina was left holding the "Old Maid" card as well as a number of others.

The wind picked up, so before beginning the third hand, Rina lowered the shutters and lit a candle. This time, the cards finally started falling the older girl's way. Every time she would match another pair, Mariko would give her a smile and say something encouraging. Rina, however, did her best to remain passive-to Kim it seemed as if the girl was deliberately trying not to get too excited. Perhaps, not to jinx her lucky streak.

"Go fish," Mariko said, bouncing her bottom upon her knees.

The card Rina took matched the last one in her hands. She sighed with relief and placed her final pair face-up on the floor.

"Yay!" Mariko cried, "You won, Rina, you won!"

Kim grinned and clapped. True, the girl couldn't see or hear her, but the gesture made Kim feel really good-made her feel connected to Rina, almost. And then Kim saw a brief, but unmistakable, smile skirt across the young girl's face.

The sound of the rain was so startling that at first Kim didn't register that the dwelling's front door had been roughly slid open. And by the time she did, her world was swallowed by Mariko's anguished voice crying "Daddy!"

IX.

"Ron-oh my God!"

Kim was on her feet and mere steps from his tottering figure before Rina's keening brought her back to herself. She stepped aside as the culmination of wails from the girl and her best friend crowded her out.

Ron looked terrible. His left eye was swollen shut, he had deep cuts on both cheeks, and there were multiple rips and tears in his gi. Steadying himself with his right shoulder against the door frame, he struggled to smile.

"Stoppable-san," Rina said urgently, "please let me get you my mat."

Ron acknowledged her with a nod, and she hurried to the opposite side of the room.

"Daddy," Mariko said, her voice beginning to break, "wh-what happened?" Her eyes said she wanted to run to him and bury herself in a hug, but she kept her distance. She flashed Kim a quick, heartbroken look over her shoulder.

Ron reached out and ran his right fingers through his child's hair. Gently, he said, "It's okay, Honey."

Immediately, the tension in the room lifted significantly. In direct contrast to his appearance, Ron's voice was confident, light.

Kim finally took a breath, but started pacing in an anxious circles, never taking her eyes off Ron's face.

"Are you going to be okay, Daddy?" Mariko asked. Gingerly, she placed her fingers on top of his that were still leafing through her hair.

"Yeah, I'll be chauncy," Ron said, "in a little bit."

"Really?"

"Mariko-chan," Rina said firmly, "help me guide your father." The older girl hooked Ron's left elbow in hers; Mariko held onto her father's hand, still buried in her hair, with both of hers. In this way, the two girls led him to the mat.

Kim continued to pace as she watched them step through Mariko's cards which had been scattered across the floor.

"Once again, the Yamanouchi School is in The Chosen One's debt."

Kim glared at the inscrutable expression upon Hirotaka's face as he eased through the doorway with an imperious air.

"No, n-o big," Ron winced as he lied down. "Just doing my part, Yabuki-san."

With distant, unclosed eyes, the ninja favored Ron with a bow.

"Honey," Ron said, taking up Mariko's hand, "I'm sorry, but we are going to have to see Sensei tomorrow."

"Oh?" Mariko looked at her father for a few beats before she recognized what he was talking about. "That's okay, Daddy. I just want you to be okay." She paused a moment to chew her bottom lip. "You are going to okay, Daddy, right?"

"Of course, punky monkey," Ron laughed and then winced. "Eww, guess I should go easy on the giggles for a while." He looked up at her from his one good eye a moment and then closed it.

Kim realized that she was balling her fists so tightly that her nails were cutting into her palms. She so wanted to strike Hirotaka in the face. Behind every one of his calculated, polite motions, she could see a shadow of intense conceit. He seemed supremely confident in whatever he and Sensei had in the works against Ron's family.

_If you think Mariko's not going to tell Ron about your little interview this morning, you're in for a surprise._

Kim turned her gaze back to Mariko. The little girl looked up at her and tried to smile, but her eyes were glistening.

"Oh," Ron said suddenly, opening his one good eye wide. "Sensei told me that you were very, very good this morning."

"Really?" Mariko asked with a smile. "I wanted to make you proud, Daddy."

"You did, punky monkey," Ron raised his fist and his daughter gently tapped hers against it.

When Kim looked back at Hirotaka, the ninja was surreptitiously saying something over Rina's shoulder. The girl's face was placid yet deadly serious. She nodded as Hirotaka drew away from her.

A chill crept up Kim's back as she watched the ninja effortlessly edge toward the dwelling's entrance. He announced his departure and bowed once more. Both girls stood and returned his bow.

Just as Hirotaka vanished into the burgeoning storm, Kim saw the left edge of his mouth curl into the most infernal smile she had ever seen.

X.

The woman who delivered the food brought three bowls of rice, three cups of soup, and a large bowl of peas. Although Mariko said she wasn't hungry, both Rina and Kim insisted that she needed to eat her dinner.

Ron ate most of his rice, but only had a few sips of his soup. He didn't touch the peas. After he was finished, he surprised everyone by abruptly rising and walking to his room under his own power. As he walked down the hall, Mariko rushed around him so his mat would be ready when he made it into the cell. Once he had made himself as comfortable as he could, Ron thanked Rina for staying, kissed Mariko good-night, and promptly fell asleep.

XI.

Hours later, after Rina and Mariko had also gone to sleep, Kim made her way into Ron's room. She sat by his side for a while trying to make out his face in the dark, listening to the blowing of the rain against the outer walls of his cell.

When she returned to Mariko's cell, the rain had almost stopped, but the wind was picking up again. She lied down next to her friend and tried to control her breathing.

The little girl whispered into the darkness, "Why are you crying, Rufina?"

Kim wiped at her eyes. "It's your daddy." She then quickly explained, "He's okay, sweetie, I mean ... I-I just don't like seeing him hurt."

"Me either."

"When he and I went on our missions-on our trips," Kim continued, "I always made sure he never got hurt. It's hard for me to know," she sighed heavily, "that I can't help him now."

Kim felt the warmth of Mariko's fingertips at her elbow.

"Would," Mariko began hesitantly. "Would playing make you feel better?"

"Are you sure you want to do that, sweetie?" Kim asked. "Aren't you tired?"

"No, I'm okay. I want to."

After Mariko quietly slid her door shut, she and Kim withdrew next to the closed window. Mariko, with some effort, lifted and hinged the shutter open. The wind must have blown the storm away because the room immediately filled with the pale blue glow of the moon. The light was perfect and the noise of the wind muffled the sound of their movements.

Kim's "game," her lesson, made them both feel much, much better. An hour later, when they had finished, Kim embraced her best friend's daughter very tightly and tried not to cry.

For the second night in a row, Mariko whispered "I love you, Kim." However, much like the sound of Rina sliding the cell door shut, her words were hidden by the wind.

* * *

_To be continued ..._


	16. Fifteen

I.

Rina lay in the dark trying to still her breathing and to make sense of what she had seen. Yamanouchi students did not learn even the rudimentary moves of ninjitsu until after the Initiation, and Mariko-chan had not even begun _classes_. Moreover, what she had witnessed the child shadow playing in the moonlight was certainly _not_ ninjitsu.

The young girl's mind tried to find a center, to regain a steady rhythm, but her thoughts remained frenetic: Stoppable-san's terrible wounds, Yabuki-san's solemn instructions, and what she had just witnessed in the little girl's room. Rina shut her eyes as the wind outside began to build. As the storm intensified, she curled herself into a ball, her legs held tightly in her arms. The wind clawing against both sides of the building only fed the fury of apprehensions within her. Strangely, it was the rumble of Mariko-san's snores that overshadowed the drum of the rain and buffeted Rina's thoughts so she could finally descend into sleep.

II.

Kim did not need to wake Mariko. The little girl was up as the first light crept across her cell's floor. The worried look that settled in her eyes as she blinked awake told Kim all she needed to know.

"Okay," Kim nodded as she placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, "Try not to wake Rina. She's sleeping just outside your door."

As she watched Mariko step nimbly around the still form of the twelve-year-old, Kim found her own thoughts racing down the short, dark hallway. Apart from the hour or so spent with training, Kim's thoughts had not strayed more than a moment from her best friend lying battered upon the hard floor of his lonely room. She could well imagine that Mariko's dreams had been haunted by her father's injuries .

As they tiptoed into the room, Ron's snores were loud and seemed regular and normal to Kim.

Mariko got on her knees near his head and peered through the lifting shadows at her father's face.

Just as Kim knelt beside her, the little girl stifled a cry.

_Oh Ron._

"It's okay, Mariko," Kim whispered urgently, "bruises usually look much worse on the second day, but I'm sure he's fine."

_Okay, Possible how are you going to convince her of_ _**that** _

Ron looked terrible. The cuts on his face were most definitely infected. As for his swollen eye, she seriously doubted he would be able to open it for days.

But then he did.

Ron opened both eyes and favored his daughter with a smile that managed to be sleepy, pained, and easy-going all at the same time.

"Heeeyyyyyyyy, Honey," he breathed. "You're up awfully early."

"I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay, daddy," Mariko managed.

"'Course I am," Ron said winking his healthy right eye. He propped himself on his right elbow. "You're old man is doing just fine." As he sat up, however, he winced and reflexively shot his left hand to his lower back. "But," he said still managing to smile, "I probably shouldn't have slept on _that_ side last night." He gave a forced laugh, and looked back at his child.

All three knew his act wasn't working.

"All right, okay," Ron nodded his head, "daddy's still pretty banged up, but I'll be fine."

Something in Ron's voice as he gave this confession produced a relived sigh from both his daughter and his best friend.

"Could you help me stand up, punky monkey?" Ron asked, stretching out his left hand.

Mariko nodded happily, got to her feet, and began tugging her father's hand with both of hers. As she did so, Ron rocked back and forth on his bottom-it was obvious he was trying to make this into a game.

"Come on, Mariko! One more time! I'm almost … almost … _almost_ … not quite … " Ron said in mock desperation as his little girl pulled with all her might.

Kim smiled broadly at their antics. In addition to the fact that his horseplay indicated that Ron wasn't as bad off as he had initially seemed, watching them play just made her feel good-a light, warm sensation spread just below her navel. Then she caught the look in Ron's dancing eyes and had to turn away.

"Whoa! " Ron said as he finally allowed Mariko to pull him upright. "Just a second," he let go of her hands and leaned a shoulder heavily against the wall and sighed. "I am _so_ looking forward to the onsen this morning." He smiled down at his daughter. "Okay, Honey, let's gather our towels. We have a special appointment to keep, don't we?"

"Yaay!" Mariko took her father's hand again and began to lead him from the room.

"Not so loud, Honey," Ron whispered as he stiffly followed her from the room, "we don't want to wake Rina."

Kim had not moved from her spot. Her eyes closed, she tried desperately, futilely, not to think.

_Never. Never. Never again._

"Rufina?"

Kim looked up to see Mariko's blinking, concerned eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart," Kim smiled.

"A-are you okay?"

"I … I'll be fine," Kim said in a voice that she desperately wanted to believe. The loss she felt when she had seen the joy reflected in her former boyfriend's eyes had been as strong as it had been unexpected. However, one look at his daughter had brought her back to what was urgently important about this day and why she had to be in the game from this moment forward.

"Are you sure?" Mariko said, still worried.

"Yes," Kim affirmed brightly. "Help me up," she said extending both of her arms.

The little girl was more than willing to replay the game.

III.

Ron walked with a definite limp as they walked down the breezeway. Although Mariko had taken Ron's upbeat spirits at face value, Kim was still giving him concerned looks.

Twice, they had to pause so Ron could rest.

A large group of students was leaving the onsen just as they arrived. The group was made up of men and women of a wide range of ages. Ron and Mariko exchanged bows with the group. The older members of the group seemed fairly austere, yet Kim noticed that many of those Rina's age or younger accented their formal greeting with warm, easy smiles as they rose and made eye contact with The Chosen One.

It was easy to see why. Even as the reverenced bearer of an ancient mystical heritage-and being in rough shape to boot, Ron Stoppable still exuded a laid-back, friendly air.

_Maybe the years haven't been quite so hard on him after all._

Kim trailed behind father and daughter as the steam that was flowing from the room's entrance enveloped them. For a brief moment she couldn't see them. Just as the beginnings of paranoia over another "black out" began to fray the edges of her mind, Kim felt Mariko's warm fingers reach out and grab her wrist. The steam cleared, revealing that they were the onsen's only occupants.

Mariko let go of her friend's wrist and immediate removed her kimono and placed it on a large rock near the hot spring's edge. Kim shook her head as she watched the naked child brazenly, but carefully, enter the water.

"Hey!" Ron said playfully, "you know the rules-wait for me!"

When Kim turned absently in the direction of Ron's voice, her eyes sunk back into her head.

It was only the second time she had seen him naked. The day before, when she had caught sight of him as he stepped out of the water, she had been overcome by surprise, by embarrassment, and by loss. This time there was only dismay.

_Oh, Ron. Oh, Honey._

As horrible as the injuries to his face had been, they were nothing compared to the gashes on his lower abdomen and gigantic purple and amber ringed bruises on both thighs.

"Daddy!" Mariko cried from the pool.

"It's okay, shhh!" Ron said as he stepped into the water. "They look really bad, I know, monkey" he admitted. He glanced down at himself. "Well, okay, really, _really_ bad," he corrected. "Eww."

He slid up to his middle into the percolating waves. "But _this,"_ he nodded to the water, "is going to make things a _whole_ lot better."

Once he was immersed up to his chin, Mariko, walking upon a narrow underwater ledge near the pool's side, gingerly made her way over to him. She sat on her knees so her chin was level with his. He winked at her and then closed both eyes and submerged his head. When he popped his head up a few seconds later, he smiled broadly. "Oh yeah, _that's_ what I'm talking about."

"Badical?" Mariko asked.

"Uh-huh."

Kim sat down as close to them as Ron's keening would allow her and wondered if the onsen had mystical properties because Ron's left eye did look marginally better. This thought was brushed aside as she watched Mariko try to snuggle up next to her father without actually touching him. They both looked so content, so happy. It was very difficult, at that moment, for Kim to accept that such a tender moment could exist in such a horrible place. But it did.

She lied down and scooted on her elbows as close to them as she could. Father and daughter lay side-by-side, eyes closed, in peaceful silence. At one point, they both had simultaneous nose itches; the faces each made to resolve the problem without actually scratching their noses mirrored the other's perfectly. Kim had a hard time not laughing.

Then Mariko blinked her eyes open and turned her head until she found Kim just to the right of her. "Rufina, would you like to get in, too?"

"Rufina's here?" Ron asked. "Sure, come on in. There's plenty of room. The water is fine." Kim noticed with mild amusement that Ron had made the last statement in his "marinating" voice.

"Sorry, sweetie, I can't."

"Why not?" Mariko asked, disappointed.

Kim smiled and then placed her right hand on the churning surface of the water. As she expected, her hand remained completely dry as it bobbed upon the surface of the waves. She took back her hand and shrugged.

"She can't swim?" Ron asked absently.

"No, I guess she can't." Mariko said.

_True enough._

"Well, maybe you could teach her how, Honey." Ron added helpfully, his eyes still closed.

"What do you mean, daddy?"

"Well, I taught my best friend how to swim when I was your age," he explained.

"Really?" Mariko said happily looking from her father back to Kim.

"He sure did," Kim grinned. "Ask him to tell it. It's a great story."

"How, daddy?"

Ron's eyes flashed at the memory but then, unexpectedly, wavered and his smile faded. "Well, …" he began, as he raised his right arm in what Kim could tell was the beginning of the neck rubbing gesture he always made whenever he was nervous or uncomfortable about something.

However, before Kim could interpret this sudden change of mood, Ron yelled. Loudly.

"OWWWW! Oh man, oh man!" He stood up in the spring and bent over, obvious pain in his eyes.

"Daddy! Daddy! Are you okay!" Mariko cried.

Kim was on her feet immediately, but the keening quickly brought her back to the helpless reality of her situation. At first, she thought Ron was doubling over in pain or maybe … maybe even having a heart attack.

_Oh, no, Ron!_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," he breathed to Mariko. He bent over further and extended his right arm. "Could you," he panted, "Honey, could you pull my arm really, really hard?"

Mariko nodded nervously and started tugging at her father's right hand. There was a slight popping sound, and then a peaceful, beatific look overtook Ron's features.

"Thanks," he said sleepily as he eased back down into the water.

"What's wrong, daddy?" Mariko was still shaken by his outburst.

"Just pulled something, Mariko," Ron explained. "Or re-pulled something, I guess," he laughed weakly, "something daddy pulled really bad last night."

It was all Kim could do to keep from screaming.

_Ron Stoppable, don't you ever do that to me-_ _**to us** _ _again!_

"Daddy," Mariko pleaded quietly, "what, what happened?"

He looked at her warily, his mouth tight. Then a tinge of shame crept into his cheeks. He sighed and shook his head. He bent over to her and spoke softly, "I can't tell you about my trips, Honey."

She nodded. But then he continued.

"But I can tell you that I fought with some ugly, ugly monkeys."

"How ugly?"

"Shhh!" he warned gently.

"Sorry," she whispered, "how ugly?"

"Super ugly." He looked down at his wounded thighs under the water's surface. "They got a couple of good shots in, but it's all good."

"Maybe I could have helped you." She offered.

"Huh?"

"With my monkey powers," she whispered with a smile.

Kim sighed. She had sat back down just as Ron began whispering about his "trip." Even if all the other concerns swirling around the upcoming appointment with Sensei were ignored, there was still the disappointment Mariko would feel if it was determined that she did not have mystical monkey power.

Ron smiled and stroked his daughter's wet hair. Then his eyes grew serious. "Mariko, you do understand that you … you may _not_ have the power yet, right?"

"What?" Mariko was crestfallen.

"Honey, there is always the chance that you don't have it. No little kid ever has before." He gently placed two fingers beneath her chin and raised her face to his. "I just want you to know that it will still be 'no big.' Okay." His smile was laid-back, but deep.

"No big," she nodded finally and then looked to Kim.

Kim could only hope that her smile was half as effective as Ron's.

Inside, she _knew_ that whatever happened at the meeting with Sensei, it was not going to be "no big."

IV.

Things were moving too fast for Kim.

Ron was changing in his cell while Rina was struggling to put Mariko into her nicest kimono again. The little girl was practically buzzing with excitement. She kept running up to Kim to ask her something, but her words were hard to make out over her sitter's admonitions as well as the keening whenever the older girl approached Kim. Mariko's inability to stay put for more than a few seconds had Rina frazzled. In fact, Rina had temporarily given up on telling her to stop talking to "Rufina" and seemed satisfied if the half-naked child would simply slow down long enough so she could be dressed.

All this activity swirling about her made Kim feel like she was moving in slow motion. This sensation only fed into the sense of foreboding that had slapped her in the face the moment they had left the onsen.

The morning sun had risen higher in the sky and, for some reason Kim couldn't put her finger on, seemed to be shining ridiculously bright. After shading her eyes for a few seconds, her sight adjusted to the day, but the glare from the sun still seemed far too intense. And then there was the sky. For the first time since they had returned, there wasn't a cloud above Yamanouchi. The sky was so blue, especially near the zenith, that it actually hurt to look at it.

The colors of the grass and the flowers in the courtyard were jarring as well. Kim couldn't remember them being so deep and rich before- _at least they seemed deeper and richer_.

Although there was still some stiffness in his movements, Ron was definitely much improved. The scars on his face didn't look so angry, and the swelling around his eye was noticeably down. There were no "breaks" on the way back to the cell. And, of course, his able and easy gait only reminded Kim that the time of their appointment was drawer steadily closer.

Rina's hair was standing in odd angles as she sat down to catch her breath. Her efforts, however, had not gone for naught. Mariko looked both adorable and refined. The cream-colored kimono contrasted nicely with Mariko's skin tone and the muted band in her hair complemented her eyes. There was a certain degree of grace within her posture that couldn't help but remind Kim of the little girl's mother. Whatever sinister aspects this last observation _might_ have conveyed (and it didn't), would have been offset by her very Ronnish giddiness. She beamed up at Kim and hopped in place on one foot and then on the other.

"Please, Mariko-chan," Rina begged, "please, control yourself when you go before Sensei."

"I will, Rina, I will," Mariko said happily over her shoulder. She then turned back to Kim. Her smile changed somewhat, grew a little nervous. She bit her lower lip.

"What is it, sweetie?" Kim asked.

"Don't you look pretty?" Ron said warmly as he turned the corner from the hallway. He was dressed in a white gi. It was the first time Kim had seen him in any ninja garb that wasn't completely black. It suited him very well, Kim decided. Very well. Especially, with his blonde goatee.

"She looks wonderful, Rina-chan, thank you."

"It was my honor," Rina replied bowing.

As Ron looked over the older girl's disheveled appearance, he said kindly, "It certainly appears so." He gestured for her to rise. "I know she can be a handful sometimes, Rina-chan. Thanks."

Kim watched as Rina, hesitantly at first, acknowledged Ron's words with the beginnings of a smile. Then Kim saw her eyes flash, the smile fade, and the bow once again overcome her.

"Stoppable-san," Hirotaka's voice slithered from just inches behind Kim. Again, there had been no keening, and therefore no warning. "Are you and your child prepared?"

"Certainly, Yabuki-san," Ron bowed. Mariko bowed as well.

_Here we go._

V.

Unlike the previous day, Hirotaka did not follow, he led. On the one hand, Kim certainly felt better about being able to keep an eye on him at all times. On the other, it did not lighten her darkened sense of the day to any degree.

It was a very fine day. No, it was a _glorious_ day. It felt like a combination of an autumn afternoon and a late spring morning. Everything about it from the cool, cherry-scented breeze to the pleasant notes from the legion of small, unidentifiable birds that hopped between the branches of the wood along the edge the Keep seemed perfect. Ridiculous perfect. Postcard perfect. Kim felt like she was going to be sick.

Mariko had taken her father's hand the moment they had left their dwelling. Although Ron was wearing his "serious face," Kim was pleased to see that this was mostly just for show. When Mariko at one point began swinging their hands to and fro in a wide arc, he winked at her and began swinging their arms fro and to-producing a light giggle from the child. This laugh had produced only the slightest motion of Hirotaka's head. Yet this movement had conveyed, at least to Kim, the ninja's utter irritation and contempt for the pair that he was leading. Kim stuck her tongue out at him. All things considered, this gesture proved quite cathartic for her.

Another thing that was irking Kim was the samurians. Their sudden disappearance the morning before had been very welcomed, but their prolonged absence bothered Kim greatly. She was so intent upon catching the least sound that might signal their presence, that the silence that assaulted her ears instead was driving her to distraction.

Kim had her head very much in the game. She was so acutely aware of herself and her surroundings, that she could feel her pulse drumming in the tips of her fingers. However, she was unaware of how miserable this heightened sense of awareness made her look.

"Rufina?" Mariko whispered with concern. "Would you like to hold my hand?"

The child's whisper did not go undetected by Hirotaka. The ninja actually stopped for a half second, turned with a not-so-honorable look that was aimed vaguely at the day itself but was obviously meant for Mariko.

"Honey," Ron whispered kindly, "maybe you should hold Rufina's hand _later_."

Although Kim appreciated Ron's gentle tone, part of her was disappointed that he had spoken to her at all. If anything, Kim thought he should have told Hirotaka to mind his own ...

_Breathe, Possible, breathe. Head in the game._

As the pagoda's spire came into view, Kim finally did hear something. Or at least she thought she did. It was a slight buzzing that ... faded out ... and then came back in. The blending of this mildly irritating noise with the pristine silence of the day was so subtle, so gradual, that for a second or two, Kim was willing to believe that she was imagining the noise. However, as they drew nearer the temple, the noise became constant and uniform.

_Oh no._

Kim clutched her head in her hands. Every window in the temple was shuttered. Although she had always considered jumping out of one of the windows with Mariko a last ditch option, Kim had been counting on it as a real option.

_Come on, Possible. Get it together ... you'll figure out something._

She took a deep breath and ran to catch up with Mariko and Ron. As she did so, she saw that Hirotaka was doing his "mystical ninja bit" by dramatically opening the temple's heavy front door with his mind or whatever. She rolled her eyes, shook her head dismissively, and caught sight of something that stopped her heart.

_Oh my God!_

Then she spied _another one_ five feet or so further down, also hidden among the leaves. And another further down. And another. She checked the right side of the temple and discovered the same layout. She wanted to believe that they had been there the morning before and she had just missed seeing them, but she _knew_ that wasn't the case.

Arranged on either side of the pagoda, crouched in stoney silence, were the samurians. What chilled Kim the most about this discovery was that their statues were not posed "at rest" as that first one had been on the mountain top. Instead, they were all poised in violent attack stances.

"Psst, psst!"

Kim pulled her gaze from the demonic statuary to see Mariko gesturing anxiously to her just inside the pagoda's entrance. The door was more than halfway closed.

Running full bore and executing a double handspring at the last second, Kim tumbled inside as the door shut behind her, and the temple swallowed them all.

VI.

The murky air was dense with whispers.

At least three dozen lighted candles, resting upon stands of various heights, were arranged haphazardly across the vast room. As on the day before, their meager, flickering lights only seemed to underscore the sinister aspect of the hall's unlit corners. In fact, the flames seemed to mimic the regular, if disorienting, pulse of strobe lights. Whether these impressions were illusion or reality, the fact remained that rather than illuminating the temple's stuffy main chamber, the candles transformed the darkened room into a hall of dancing shadows.

The whispers, however, were what really concerned Kim. As she rose to her feet, she anticipated seeing a vast assembly of students. Perhaps standing against the walls just outside the reach of the candles, anxiously muttering to one another about the immanent meeting or ceremony or whateveritwas.

But, only Sensei was present, waiting for them before his dais at the rear of the hall.

Kim tried to get her bearings, but the unseen chatterers were making it difficult. She shook her head and focused upon Mariko and Ron. They seemed very, very far away. As she watched them and Hirotaka walking toward the dais, their forms seemed to undulate between the shadows.

A tide of anxious compulsion rose within her and Kim started to move. However, wading through the layers of incessant whispers, she felt as if she was walking along the bottom of a pool. She struggled to keep up with them, but she was floundering, getting waylaid by the lights, the shadows, and the words, always the words. She could never catch what they were, yet they bombarded her senses nonetheless. They were clearly not human-but they were not merely "noise" either. There was language, communication. It was like dark music.

Far up ahead, Mariko turned her head briefly, smiled, and surreptitiously waved for Kim to catch up.

An obvious and chilling conclusion dawned on Kim: no one could hear the whispers but her.

In terror, Kim realized that Mariko was getting out of her reach.

_No. Not going to happen!_

Kim launched herself through the shadows. She could see Ron speaking to Mariko and then they were both before Sensei. They bowed to him.

The old man bid them rise and then exchanged words with both Hirotaka and Ron. He then beckoned Kim's friends toward a short gold stand positioned before the dais. As she ran towards them, Kim strained to hear what they were saying, but it was nearly impossible for them to be heard above the din that was swirling about the room.

As Kim desperately crossed the distance between herself and the others, the whispering grew acute in both intensity and incomprehensibility. Reflexively, she shot her head toward the point where the cacophony seemed the strongest. The focal point, perhaps their radiating center-was right above her head, directly in the center of the hall's ceiling. Kim shook her head violently against the almost hypnotic rhythms and continued to pick her way through the shadows toward Mariko and Ron.

She closed her eyes against a sudden flash of blue, but continued straight ahead blindly. When her vision cleared she saw Ron kneel and extend the Lotus Blade toward Sensei's outstretched hands. With calculated gravity in his every movement, Sensei received the sword and then turned toward Mariko's bowed form.

_No! Not now-not ever!_

Kim was at her friend's side. Ron's keening was almost unbearable, but it so didn't matter. She stared defiantly into Sensei's unseeing eyes and placed both her hands gently but firmly upon Mariko's shoulders. The little girl looked up, her eyes connected with Kim's, and they flashed in happiness.

Sensei stared down at Mariko a moment longer and then turned about, placing the sword harmlessly upon the gold stand.

Then the little girl stood and walked toward the sword.

Kim allowed only a half-inch space between herself and Mariko. The child tremulously reached the stand and then hesitantly clutched the handle of her father's sword.

For a very, very long minute nothing happened. The whispers continued, but no one moved; no one tried to speak.

And then, with a finality and sudden immensity that jolted Kim, the murmurs ceased. Only her breathing and the anxious breaths of Ron's little girl remained.

Sensei stepped forward slowly and gently took the sword from Mariko. He turned and handed it back to Ron.

"It seems plain, Stoppable-san," the old man intoned. "Your child's does not have the honor of possessing Mystical Monkey Power."

The words echoed into the darkened corners of the silent hall.

The complex riot of emotions these words produced within Kim Possible was quickly grounded when she felt the little girl sag beneath her touch. She stared down at the crown of the child's bent head and sighed.

Absently, Kim noticed that the gaudy hall no longer held a nightmarish cast; its shadows no longer danced. She sighed again and then looked to the stock still figures of Sensei and Hirotaka.

Visible relief beaded in the eyes of the ninja, and Kim could discern the beginnings of a smile churning within the layers of the old man's beard.

VII.

Despite the hall's sudden benign appearance, Kim stayed close to Mariko. The tension and heaviness in the air might have dissolved, but her main focus remained getting the child-and if she could in any way help it, Ron, away from the temple unharmed.

With a slight, officious manner that was in marked contrast to his attitude prior to the child's interaction with the Lotus Blade, Sensei dismissed Ron and Mariko. Hirotaka stayed behind with his master, and the Stoppables left unescorted. Kim kept her left hand upon the little girl's shoulder as the threesome maneuvered their way along the haphazard path amongst those hideous burgundy rugs. Twice, Kim shot a look back at the duo standing unassuming by the gold stand. Her first look was one of suspicion-she _knew_ there was something more going on. She merely poured the full blast of her hatred into the second look.

They crossed beneath the room's center, and Kim could not discern any remnant of the strange mutterings. In fact, the silence that now permeated the room seemed even deeper, more profound at that spot.

When the door admitted them back into the sun-dappled morning, Kim quickly stepped around and ahead of Ron and Mariko. She scoped the perimeter and discovered that the samurians were no longer present. Except for the chittering of the birds, the day was quiet. She glanced back at the little girl and gave her a reassuring smile.

Mariko made eye contact only for an instant and then quickly bowed her head.

_Oh, sweetie._

Kim waited for the two of them to walk by and then said gently, "It'll be all right, Mariko."

Instead of answering, the little girl seemed to sag beneath Kim's words.

The reaction froze Kim in place. Not knowing what exactly was wrong or what she could to rectify it, Kim waited a few moments before falling in step behind her retreating friends. She watched their lonely figures walk languidly some ten feet in front of her.

After maybe three minutes, they stopped. Kim saw Ron bend over and say something to Mariko's small form. The little girl didn't even turn her head.

Kim walked quickly toward them. Even from behind she could tell the child was shaking. Ron lifted his little girl up and cradled her so her face was over his left shoulder. She was sobbing.

When she saw Kim approaching her, she buried her running eyes into her father's shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, Kim followed them blindly home.

VIII.

Kim watched with fascination as Mariko ate her snow peas and drank her soup. The setting sun bathed the main room in a rich glow that was a balanced mixture of rose and amethyst. From the corner of the room between the window and the far wall, Kim sat lotus style and felt, for what seemed to be the first time in years, the tension ease from her chest.

The little girl's profile had her entranced. The shape of her face, her bone structure was so ... so Ron-like. Same facial movements, too. The subtle up and down motion of her ears, when she chewed her food with her head turned away from Kim, was just like Ron's- _just like it_. All the nuances and little quirks that Kim saw and adored in Mariko's father were present, and they perfectly married the sublime beauty of her mother. More than once during the meal Kim caught this blending of the two parents in the child, and it took her breath each time. The last time, it took a lot of effort for Kim not to cry.

_I won't let you down. I promise, Mariko. I won't._

When they had arrived home, Ron had profusely, quickly thanked and apologized to Rina before disappearing, with his still sobbing daughter cradled in his arms, to his cell and shutting the door. Rina looked at the closed door in shock, and didn't move for at least a couple of minutes. She then slowly gathered her meager belongings and left the dwelling.

Kim believed she understood how the twelve-year-old felt. After Rina left, she leaned against the hallway's wall and slowly slid to the floor. And stayed there for many hours. Each time she decided it would be best if she left and, perhaps, investigated the school grounds further, she would hear a noise, a muffled cry, from the other side of Ron's door that would keep her glued to the spot.

She had one or two ideas about why Mariko was so upset, but she didn't know for sure. And she certainly did not know what she could do to help. Yet, she could not force herself to leave before she was sure that her friend was going to be okay.

Kim was pacing about the living room when the door finally opened. Mariko was walking ahead of her father, her face flush and her hair matted. Ron's eye still looked pretty bad, but all the stiffness in his walk seemed to be gone.

Kim tried to catch Mariko's eye without betraying too much anxiousness. The little girl gave her a brief smile and wave, but couldn't meet her glance. However, when Kim waved back, Mariko did look her in the eye. She looked sad, but seemed better.

Before Kim could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Dinner had arrived.

As Ron ate his food, he gave Mariko an occasional concerned look. Between the last two slurps of his soup, he leaned over and kissed the crown of her head. She looked up and smiled.

"I'll be okay, daddy."

He nodded.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Honey?"

"Is it okay," and she turned to face Kim, "if I talk with Rufina alone in my room?"

He nodded and held out his fist.

Kim was on her feet before their fists touched.

Ron's smile was wistful but a little sad as he watched his only child walk into her room, her left arm slightly raised as she clutched the hand of her invisible friend, and closed the door.

IX.

Mariko slid the door shut and walked toward the window. Before she was halfway there, Kim released her hand, got on her knees and was giving the little girl one of the tightest hugs she could ever remember giving anybody. She hadn't planned on doing it; it just happened.

When the little girl started sobbing quietly, Kim was sure she had made a mistake. She released Mariko's shoulders and tried to give her some space but discovered that _she_ was now in a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," they whispered together.

"J-jinx," Mariko sniffled.

"I guess I owe you a soda," Kim smiled wiping her own eyes.

"I-I don't like soda," Mariko said in a perplexed, quiet voice.

"Hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," Mariko nodded.

As Kim dried the little girl's cheeks with her fingertips, she asked, "What are you sorry for, sweetie?"

"I don't have the Monkey Power, Rufina." Mariko stated flatly.

Kim nodded.

"I wanted to make sure ... make sure you never disappeared again." Mariko explained, her voice starting to crack.

Kim gently pressed her finger to Mariko's lips.

"Then ... then," Mariko whispered, "we could always be together." As the last word fell, Mariko covered her face in her hands.

Kim held Mariko close again, and the little girl allowed herself to be gathered up into an embrace. Kim rocked Mariko until the tears stopped. Gradually, the night invaded the room.

"That's a wonderful wish," Kim said finally. "But," Kim began as gently as she could, "most of the time that's not the way life is."

"I know," Mariko said without moving.

"But that's nobody's fault. Especially not yours."

_She needs a better answer than that._

Kim could see Mariko's eyes, shiny with tears in the dark. Then she recognized something in them that she had seen earlier, something she had seen in Ron's. His eyes held that same wavering glint when Mariko had asked him to tell the swimming story.

_Perfect._

"Mariko," Kim asked, "did your daddy tell you how he taught me how to swim?"

Mariko blinked and shook her head.

X.

Not two months before she started preschool and first met Ron Stoppable, Kim Possible became abnormally, inexplicably, deathly afraid of drowning.

Ann Possible first became aware of Kim's phobia when one Sunday in August the four-year-old begged to have a shower instead of her normal weekly bath. She still insisted on having her bath toys with her, but, teary-eyed, she steadfastly refused to let her mother fill the tub. The behavior was all the more confusing because Kim's mother had never known her daughter to be scared of anything. With the exception of a mild shyness streak around children her own age, her first-born child was pretty fearless.

Truth be told, this fear was not all that abnormal nor was it inexplicable if one only knew the reason. However, no one did. Kim was too traumatized to tell anyone, and her Aunt June was either too oblivious or too prudent to tell anyone what had happened that day at the pool.

"Aunt June?" Mariko asked.

"My daddy's half-sister," Kim explained.

"Oh," Mariko nodded and then blinked twice. "Huh?"

"Well," Kim explained, "that doesn't mean that she was half a person or half a sister. It's … well … she wasn't Nana's daughter, but … oh boy. Is it okay if I explain this later?"

Mariko nodded.

To give her sister-in-law, who had just passed into her second trimester with the tweebs, something of a break, June had volunteered to take Kim for an extended "playdate" with her Cousin Larry over the last weekend in July. There had been numerous events planned: a trip to the zoo Friday afternoon, dinner at the newly opened JP Barrymore's Pizza Partytorium Friday evening, a visit to the bookstore the next morning, and, if the weather was fine, a Saturday trip to the pool.

Kim liked Larry … to a certain extent. He was even shyer than she was, a little strange, but he was still nice. One thing kinda bothered her about him, though. It was how he acted whenever his mother was around. Aunt June seemed to be under the impression that her five-and-a-half-year-old son was somehow only five and a half _months_ old. And he never did anything to make her think otherwise. He would just sit there and let her baby him! In fact, when the three of them went to JP Barrymore's, the waitress thought Kim was Larry's older sister- _she was almost two years younger than he was_!

Things didn't go exactly according to plan that weekend. It rained all day Friday, so instead of going to the zoo, Kim and Larry stayed inside and watched some of Larry's favorite movies on TV. Kim thought they were okay, but she could never tell one space movie from the other. The outing to JP Barrymore's wasn't much better. The pizza tasted like burnt cardboard and the one "attraction" that Kim was looking forward to-the ball room-had been closed off to be cleaned because someone, perhaps an hour before Kim, Larry and Aunt June had arrived, had "misplaced" more than half of a pizza at the bottom of the bin. She learned some years later, quite by accident, that this "someone" had been Ron.

"Really?" Mariko asked.

Kim nodded.

"Why did he do that?"

"I have no idea." Kim sighed.

The next day, however, was sunny and humid. Aunt June announced happily at breakfast that their planned outing to the pool was on. "At least _something_ this weekend will go right," she said with lingering bitterness.

The only pool Kim had ever been in was her inflatable kiddie pool that her father let her play in while he washed his car. It had small cuddlebuddy cartoons all over it. Kim really liked it because although the real Panaroo couldn't go into the pool, since there were pictures of him _on it_ , it was almost like he _was_ there.

"What's a pool?" Mariko asked.

"Like an onsen except a lot bigger and the water isn't hot."

"Oh," Mariko nodded, understanding.

_Swish! Got it in one! Not bad, Possible. Maybe you're getting a handle on this._

Kim believed, in fact, that a kiddie pool was what her aunt was talking about. When Aunt June started piling Larry and Kim into her Volvo wagon, Kim fully expected that she was preparing to drive them to her own house so they could play in her pool. Needless to say, she was somewhat confused when they arrived at the Middleton Community Center. Then she was overwhelmed when she got a look at the pool. It was gigantic! It had diving boards and slides and, and, well, it looked like the pools she had seen on television. She couldn't wait to jump right in.

Aunt June maneuvered Kim and her cousin to the shallow side of the pool. Kim noticed a big number three painted just on the edge, and wondered what that meant. She was going to ask, but before she could, Aunt June asked _her_ a question.

"Kimberly-you don't use water wings, do you?"

Kim didn't know what water wings were. "Uh ..."

"I only brought two pair for Larry, so I wanted to know if you could go without," Aunt June explained somewhat impatiently.

"Mom, I'm getting hot," Larry complained. "I want to get in the water."

"See, Larry's getting hot, Kimberly!" Kim's aunt said in exasperation. "You don't need water wings, do you?"

"Uh, no, I guess not," Kim said uneasily.

With relief Aunt June turned back to her son and began trying to squeeze a second water wing onto his left arm.

Kim sat down on the pool's edge and then let her toes dangle and then touch the water's surface. It was cool but also warm too. She then slid in both feet, and then scooted her bottom to the very edge of the pool so the water was midway up her shins. It felt very, very good. She couldn't wait to get in and jump around; however, she was going to wait for Larry. Then she wondered absently how deep the water was. It definitely looked deeper than the Pandaroo Pool.

"It's not going on!" Aunt June groused.

"Mom," Larry said as if he was parent and she was child, "you have to get them wet first, remember?"

"Of course, sweetheart!" Aunt June smiled at her brilliant son, "Where is my head?" She turned quickly toward the water ... so quickly, in fact, that an objective observer might have called her rapid movement "careless."

Kim didn't know where she was. She couldn't see clearly. Everything was a grayish blue. And something was wrong with her hearing too; it seemed muffled. She tried to move and her hands and knees rubbed against something rough-almost like a sidewalk. She heard voices somewhere above her, but couldn't make out what they were saying. It was then that Kim realized that she couldn't breath.

Then a series of shocks bombarded her. Rough hands grabbed her, then sun was shining painfully into her eyes, she heard the splashing of water and the angry voice of her aunt, and she was coughing. The back of her throat hurt a lot. She was coughing so loudly that she couldn't hear what her aunt was yelling. She made out Larry somewhere behind her aunt's angry face. He wore a very worried expression.

Then when Aunt June's face turned away, Kim found herself in the same blueish grey place she had been moments before.

This time, her inability to breath was the first thing she noticed. There was this stinging sensation at the bridge of her nose. Reflexively, she tried to call for help, but her voice didn't sound right. She was swallowing water, water that tasted funny. Her cheek touched the same rough surface she had felt on her palms and legs moments earlier. In terror, she realized where she was-she was at the bottom of the pool.

Again, rough hands pulled her into the splashing, blinding sunshine. Again, her aunt was yelling. And then she heard Larry yelling. And then she heard herself coughing. She got up on trembling legs and starting running as far away from the pool as she could go.

Kim hid in the bathroom. She had never been in a public bathroom before without her mommy or daddy. But she didn't care, she couldn't go near that pool again. She was so dripping wet that Kim only realized once she had regained her breath that her nose was running too. And that she was crying.

Mariko patted Kim on the knee. "I'm so sorry, Rufina. You were so scared!"

"Yes," Kim nodded, "I was terrified. There was nothing that was going to get me near that water again."

"Kimberly Ann!" Aunt June's voice barked from the other side of the bathroom door. "You come out here, right now! If you don't, I'm going to tell your father!"

"No!" Kim yelled through the door.

"You're ruining the day, Kimberly!"

"No!" Kim repeated. She said the word again and again.

"Mom," Kim heard Larry's voice say softly, "maybe Kim wants to go home."

"Larry," Aunt June said shortly, "we are going to have fun today. I am not going to let her horseplay ruin your pool day!"

"No, no, no, no," Kim cried. Her cry soon became a mumble.

"Kimberly, stop it!" Aunt June ordered.

"Mom?" Larry asked.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Mom, I want to go home."

"WHAT?!"

"I," Larry repeated in a defiantly un-babyish voice, "want to go home."

On the quiet, tension-filled ride back to Cousin Larry's house, Kim told her cousin that she was sorry. And she told him, "Thanks."

He only smiled back at her.

"He was really nice," Mariko said in admiration of Kim's cousin.

"Yes," Kim said reflecting upon her unusual cousin. "Yes, he is." Then she sighed with regret at all the less-than-complimentary thoughts she had had about him over the years. She had kept that traumatic memory buried for so long that she had practically forgotten about his heroism.

"I don't believe I've ever told that story before," Kim said with mild surprise.

"Not even to my daddy?" Mariko said in shock.

"No, I guess not." Kim smiled, "Just you, sweetheart."

"How ... how could my daddy tell me the story then if you didn't tell him?"

"Oh," Kim laughed, realizing, " _that_ wasn't the story! Wait, I'm getting there."

Less than one year later, Kim found herself standing some ten feet from an edge of that very same pool. She was surrounded by mostly strange kids waiting for their swimming teacher to arrive. Except this time, the edge she was standing near had a number 6 instead of a number 3. What's more, she now knew what the numbers meant.

Just beyond a tangle of lifesaver ropes that lay strewn across the pavement were untold gallons of chlorinated water, six feet deep-two feet and more taller than she was on her tiptoes, that was waiting-as silly as she knew it was, it sure didn't _feel_ silly, waiting to get her.

"Are you okay, KP?"

Fortunately, standing right beside her in his teddy bear swimming trunks was her best friend of almost one year, Ron Stoppable. When he had overheard Kim's mother trying to convince her to take swimming lessons during the summer, Ron had immediately volunteered to take the classes with Kim. He enthused that he had always wanted to take them. With some encouraging advice from her father coupled with the comfort of knowing Ron would also be there, Kim reluctantly agreed. Then, of course, she got more than a mild shock when she learned that Ron's mother didn't want him to take the lessons. Fortunately, a call from Kim's mother smoothed over any reservations Mrs. Stoppable had. When they were both signed up in May, Kim almost felt confident. But that was May; this was June, and the scent of chlorine was itching her nose.

"I've got to go to the bathroom, Ron."

"But, KP, didn't you tinkle just before we left your house."

Kim reddened. Using the word "tinkle" was okay, weird but okay, when they were at her house, but not by a public pool surrounded by other kids. Despite her friendship with Ron, Kim still had shyness issues around people her own age.

"Did you just say 'tinkle,' Stoppable?" laughed a rude boy some three kids down in line. He was a good foot taller than everybody else, and his laugh made him seem even taller.

"Yeah," Ron said matter-of-factly, "I did. I did just say tinkle."

The punk kid paused as if he didn't know how to respond to Ron's honesty. He huffed, gave Ron a fairly harmless shove and then turned back to tormenting the kids further up the line.

Of course, Kim didn't really need to "tinkle," she wanted to hide. She hadn't met her swim teacher yet, but she had seen her. Something about the cut of her hair reminded Kim of her Aunt June. She felt awful. Ron being there helped, of course. Without him, she wouldn't have been able to get out of the car when her mother dropped them off. But that didn't mean she was going to be able to get into that water.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash that nearly had Kim jumping out of her skin.

"Wh-what?" Mariko was horrified.

"Just an expression," Kim reassured her. "I was just really, really scared."

"Oh," Mariko said, "okay."

A spray of water erupted from the pool, and Kim jumped back to avoid it hitting her feet.

"Arnie Custer!" hollered a booming voice, "Get out of that pool now!"

Kim looked up at the person who had yelled. It was their swim teacher. Even her voice reminded Kim of Aunt June.

A drenched figure clambered out of the pool, shaking his wet hair violently so that he sent sheets of spray across most of his fellow students. After she ducked out of the way of his drops, she recognized him as the taller kid who had tried to give Ron trouble just moments before.

"Shoot, Mom!" he complained bitterly as he walked back into line, "can't I have any fun? This standing around is just stupid!"

"Oh no," Kim fretted. Her teacher was that bully's mother. Things were just getting worse and worse.

As Arnie Custer pushed his way back into line, the boy behind him gave him a look that he didn't care for, so he tackled him. As they went down, their bodies forceable shoved Ron into the air and he, in turn, knocked Kim ... towards the pool. As she tried to regain her balance she stumbled over the life-presever lines and fell to the pavement. In trying to stop herself, she scraped her left wrist and her right knee. However, Kim wasn't concerned with the stinging pain from either of these two areas as she rolled into the water.

"Oh no!" Mariko cried.

Kim nodded as she brought her finger to her lips. "It was worse than my worst nightmare."

Immediately, Kim began to panic. However, before she had swallowed her first mouthful of water, before the tingle of the chlorine could start attacking the bridge of her nose, she heard a muffled splash behind her and felt the water shift. And then she felt hands around her middle. They were firm, but not rough like Aunt June's had been. Also, there was something familiar in how they felt.

Kim's head was above the water. As the stinging water ran out of her nose and she tried to clear her head, she fully expected to see that either the swim teacher or even Arnie Custer had jumped in to her rescue. When she turned her head, she found it was neither of them.

"Ron!" she gasped.

"It's okay, KP," Ron said, trying to catch his breath, "we're almost to the edge."

Once Ron towed her to the side, he helped her grab on to the overhanging ledge.

"Are you okay, Kim?" he asked urgently as he swam from one side of her to the other.

She nodded. "Ron!? You-you're swimming!"

"Huh?" Ron was nonplussed for a moment, then he looked down at his churning limbs beneath the water's surface. "Hey, you're right! I am!" He seemed just as surprised as she was.

Just then Mrs. Custer appeared suddenly looming over them. She brusquely asked if Kim was okay. Kim nodded and said she was fine. Her teacher offered to pull her out, but Kim, in a move that would have shocked herself not five minutes before, said she was okay and could move along the edge to the ladder.

"Don't worry, I'll help her, Mrs. C!" Ron said happily.

Mrs. Custer gave Ron the withered look of a life-long nick-name hater, but left Kim in his care. The boy obviously knew how to swim.

"How do you know how to swim?" Kim asked as she crept along the edge.

"That's right," Ron said slapping his forehead, "I'm a water baby."

"Huh?"

"My mom got me to take swimming lessons when I was two weeks old or something," he explained.

"I guess that's why she didn't want you to take these lessons."

"Yeah, I guess so," then Ron's eyes grew wide with sudden terror. "You're bleeding, KP!"

"Oh," Kim said zeroing in on the stinging coming from her wrist. "It's okay, doesn't really hurt."

"No, no, no, KP," Ron sputtered, "we've got to get you out of here! Now!"

"What? Why?"

"Sharks!" Ron cried. "They're attracted to blood!"

"Ron!" Kim said raising one hand to calm him while keeping the other on the edge. "There are NO sharks in pools. It's okay."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

They were at the ladder. As Kim began to climb out, she reached over to Ron-leaving only one hand wrapped around the ladder, another act unfathomable for Kim just minutes before, and hugged his shoulder. "Thanks, Ron. Thanks for saving me."

His face beamed back at her but then suddenly fell.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

"KP?"

"Yeah?"

With an ashen look of shame, he confessed, "I-I gotta tinkle."

"Hey, what's so funny in here?" Ron asked as he slid open Mariko's door.

"Rufina was just telling me a funny story, daddy," Mariko said between giggles.

"Is she making you feel better?" Ron asked.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded.

"Well, good. I hoped she would," Ron looked down at his daughter in silence and then ruffled her hair. "I'm heading off to bed, you two girls don't stay up too late, okay?"

"Okay." Mariko said.

"Goodnight, Honey," Ron said, bending down to kiss the crown of her head. "I love you."

"I love you, too, daddy."

Then she stood up and gave him a tight hug.

He returned the hug but warned lightly that she was getting too "ripped" and that he was still healing.

As he walked to the door, he turned back around and said to an empty space opposite to where Kim was sitting. "Thanks, Rufina."

"No problem, Ron, " Kim smiled as he disappeared behind the sliding door.

XI.

Kim and Mariko "played" an extra long time that night. Kim was very impressed with the little girl's progress and stamina after only two sessions. Finally, however, her reactions became sluggish. Although her smile was still broad and her eyes were still dancing, Kim knew Mariko needed to go to bed.

As Kim lied down next to her friend in the darkness, she thought back to the look in Mariko's eyes from a few hours earlier and how it had reminded her of Ron's look of dismay in the onsen that morning. Although he had saved her that summer day when they were kids, he couldn't thirteen years later in Middleton Park. It wasn't his fault, of course, but Kim _knew_ from that look that Ron still blamed himself.

"I'm sorry I can't keep you from disappearing, Rufina," Mariko's voice said as it folded in with the gathering darkness.

_No. I am not going to let you blame yourself._

Kim found Mariko's shoulder in the dark and squeezed it. "All we can do is enjoy the time we have together, sweetheart. However long that may be." Kim said these words calmly, but as she spoke them she wondered if they could even be heard over her heart's beating within her chest.

And then Mariko threw her arms around Kim's neck and whispered what she had been wanting to say all day, "I love you, Kim Possible."

XII.

About two hours later, Kim heard the whispers.

Faintly, at first. But there was no way she could be mistaken as to what they were. They were seeping in through Mariko's window and swirling about the room. Swirling around the little girl as she slept.

Kim went to the window and looked out into the overcast night. The whispers were leafing through the sheets of darkness in the air overhead. Kim looked back over to Mariko and then looked back out the window.

_Ron's here. I need to find out what's going on._

She hesitated a second more and then jumped.

She followed the whispers in the direction they seemed to be stronger, louder, more distinct. It did not surprise her at all that this trail led her to the pagoda.

There was a light on near the top of the tower. She could see the pulsing crimson light bleeding through the slats in the shutters. Somehow she knew that it was through these small spaces that the whispers were also leaking out.

_What is going on?_

A sense of overwhelming helplessness blossomed in her middle, and Kim closed her eyes to try to get herself together.

When she opened them, she was somewhere else.

She was sitting by the edge of an obsidian pool of stagnant, black water. Floating upon the center of the water's surface was a lotus blossom. Rhythmic pulses of light beat along its petals.

Reflexively, Kim placed her left palm over her trembling heart. She wiped away a tear with her right hand and closed her eyes. Tightly.

Sheltered, however feebly, in the darkness behind her eyelids, Kim could only pray that when she was able to open them again, she would be returned to Mariko and Ron. And that it would not be too late.

* * *

_To be continued ..._

**A/N:** The whispers in the pagoda were partially inspired by two albums by my fellow Tarheel, John Coltrane- _Ascension_ and _Interstellar Space_. These albums have a very dense sound that is, at first, very intimidating. However, Coltrane's music, unlike the mutterings from the pagoda, rewards multiple hearings.


	17. Sixteen

I.

Kim opened her eyes, and the world was not what it once had been.

The light that, at first, had been surging and vibrant along the lotus blossom's petals was now irregular and dying. Overhead, raced slate gray clouds that were bearing down upon the pale cliffs that ringed the clearing.

She felt strange.

It seemed as if her body was being enveloped within an otherwise imperceptible mist. Her thoughts began to drift as this haze dulled the edges of her consciousness. It took great effort to remain focused. Just as she shook off the odd sensation, a wave of numbing sadness overtook her.

_No. Please._

Within seconds, despair bloomed into the cold finality of dread. Her mind fought wildly as fear gathered her into an embrace.

_Ron! Mariko!_

Everything dimmed into darkness.

II.

For a long time, she was only aware of the sound of her own breathing. Then with startling abruptness, she realized that she was no longer sitting, but standing.

With painful slowness, she became aware of the fuzzy outlines of a dark room. She raised her right arm and could just make out its shape, the color of shadow, a half foot or so in front of her face. Although she could tell that the air in the room was slowly becoming lighter, she hesitated to move within it. Instead, her mind anxiously raced as she obsessed over one disconcerting question and then another.

Suddenly, the gloom was pierced by a razor of light off to one side of the room. When she turned toward it, the ray lengthened. As it did so, it bowed and thickened in the middle and then seemed to narrow to a point at its far end. Its brightness increased, becoming brilliant and iridescent, almost to a degree painful to look at. Kim blinked, and when her vision cleared she could see that it was merely the sunlight edging from beneath the closed shutter of a window-a window in Ron and Mariko's dwelling.

_Oh, thank goodness!_

With relief, Kim could now see that she had been standing in the back corner of their main room. She happily stepped to the center of the shadowy, but, by now, easily navigable, living space. However, within seconds, the still-unanswered questions from moments earlier returned.

How long had she been gone? What had happened to her friends in that time?

_Where are they?_

Then a terrible thought: perhaps they were no longer at Yamanouchi. Although the idea of Mariko and Ron leaving for Middleton and never coming back was Kim's singular goal, it was the least plausible of the many darker reasons for their absence.

Both their doors were shut. She ran to Mariko's and whispered urgently against the screen.

"Mariko! Sweetheart! It's me, Rufina! Can you please open your door?"

No reply.

When Kim placed her ear against the screen, she heard nothing. She knew this was a useless gesture. If Mariko had been asleep, there was no way she couldn't have heard the little girl's snores through that thin barrier. Ron's snores, too. She sighed and tried not to let her anxiety overwhelm her. She had no idea how long they might be gone, and with the doors and windows shut, she wasn't going anywhere.

As she leaned heavily against her friend's door, Kim noticed an object lying against the wall. She immediately sprang back up.

_Rina's mat! Thank goodness._

Even in the dim light, Kim could see that the young girl's meager sleeping mat was not covered in dust.

_Must have been used recently._

She smiled as she recalled Mariko's sitter and the look of awkward but genuine happiness on her face as she won her first hand of Old Maid.

A slight noise from somewhere behind her left shoulder drew her attention. As she turned toward it, Kim found herself squinting against blinding daylight.

"Rufina!"

Shielding her eyes with her hand, Kim tried to make out Mariko from the glare; however, she had only discerned what had to be Ron's outline when her legs were suddenly tackled by a fierce embrace.

"Mariko," Ron said with a slightly-annoyed edge in his voice, "Don't throw the mail all over the place."

Kim blinked a few times, and her vision finally adjusted to the sunlight. She caught sight of Ron bending down to gather something from the floor as she, herself, bent down to embrace his daughter who was still hugging her knees tightly.

"Sweetheart," Kim said, gently stroking the top of the child's head before giving her an awkwardly-positioned hug. She absently noticed that Mariko was wearing a crimson headband.

Mariko hesitantly released Kim, which allowed her older friend to kneel down to her level.

_Oh no!_

Mariko was dressed in a blue blouse with red trim, a shirt striped in the same colors, and navy knee-high socks.

_My God, how long have I been gone?_

"Oh, Rufina, I missed you so, so very much," the little girl enthused. Something in her voice, however, belied a desperate sadness along with relief and happiness.

"How long have I been gone?" Kim asked urgently.

"Weeks and weeks," Mariko said rubbing at her left eye with her small fist. Once she lowered her hand, she smiled broadly. Her right fist gripped the shirt fabric at Kim's left shoulder.

Ron had opened the window, closed the door, and was now walking over, giving his daughter a bemused look. "I don't know if I like Rufina disappearing on you like that," he said. "Friends shouldn't go off without telling you when they're coming back."

Although his words weren't really directed toward her, some part deep inside Kim recoiled from their sting.

"It isn't her fault, daddy!" Mariko protested, turning back to her father.

Kim noticed that although the little girl was facing her father, she still had a rigid hold upon the fabric at her shoulder.

Ron's look softened. "You're right, Honey," he nodded, "sometimes things happen."

When Mariko turned to face Kim again, the intense affection in her eyes made Kim's middle ache.

Reflexively, Kim found herself mouthing soundlessly, "I'm sorry."

Mariko only smiled, shook her head, and then hugged her friend's neck.

"So," Kim managed once the hug ended, "how long have you been in class?"

_I so wanted to get you out of here before this._

"A week," Mariko announced happily. "I really like it."

"You look very nice in your uniform," Kim smiled. The strong resemblance the little girl bore to her mother was even more evident now that she was dressing like her.

"Really?" Mariko asked hesitantly. "Do I look 'grown-up'?"

"Uh-huh," Kim nodded. "You do," she said.

"Of course, you look 'grown-up,'" Ron said pleasantly, "in fact, you look more and more like your mother every day."

"I do?" Mariko asked, looking back to her father.

Ron nodded happily. Kim noticed vaguely that he was shuffling papers or something in his hands.

"Do you think I look like my mommy, Rufina?" Mariko asked, beaming.

Kim gently reached out and touched Mariko's cheek. "Of course, Sweetheart. You're beautiful."

"R-really?"

Kim smiled.

"Yay!" Mariko clapped as she bounced up and down on her heels.

"So, Rufina thinks you look like your mother, too, huh?" He asked as he approached them.

Kim inched back as Ron's keening encroached upon her.

"Uh-huh."

"Here you go," Ron said flashing three very striking envelopes before his daughter's face, "special delivery for Miss Mariko Stoppable!"

It was their colors that made the envelopes so arresting. True, pink, lavender, and tangerine were not the most unique or vibrant colors in the world. However, these everyday hues stood in stark relief to the numb, lifeless pallor of the dwelling that Mariko and Ron called home.

"They're _all_ for me?" Mariko asked.

Ron nodded. "The two boring ones are for me," he absently waved two white envelopes in his hand, "but all the pretty ones are yours, Honey."

Mariko turned the envelopes over in her hands, one at a time with a degree of care that approached reverence. "They are pretty, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Kim said pleasantly. Because Ron was standing so close, she had been forced to inch her back to the wall. She hoped her discomfort wasn't obvious to Mariko. "So who are they from, sweetie?"

"Who are they from, daddy?" Mariko asked looking straight up at her father who had been standing over her and watching her inspection with amusement.

"Well, let's see," he said. He walked to the middle of the room, sat down in a lotus position, and patted his thigh. "Come on, Punky Monkey!"

Mariko started toward her father's lap, but then she stopped, turned and snatched Kim's left hand from where it was resting on her knee.

"Okay, okay," Kim smiled, as the little girl struggled to pull her to her feet, "I'm coming, too." As she let herself be tugged along, she noticed a very pleased expression break over her best friend's face. She sat down catty-corner to him - at a point where his keening managed to be annoying, but not painful.

Mariko plopped down in her father's lap, and he responded with a comically exaggerated look of pain.

_At least, I hope he's joking._

"Who's it from, daddy?" Mariko asked holding up the tangerine envelope.

"Let's see," Ron began as he took the envelope from his daughter, but then he stopped and gave it back to her. "Wait a minute … I think this would be a great time for you to show off your mad fu reading skills!"

This statement gave Kim quite a start. Mariko said she had been in class for only a week. And it had been less than a month since Ron had read her "Snow White." Kim was even more confused by what the little girl said in return.

"English?" Mariko asked, raising her eyes to meet her father's.

Ron nodded.

"It's up here in the corner, Honey," Ron said pointing to the return address.

"Uh … hmmm … uh," Mariko furrowed her brow as she struggled to make sense of the first word.

"Oh, my bad," Ron apologized. "That's an abbreviation; you probably haven't done those yet, huh?"

"What's an 'abbre-va-tion'?"

"I guess not." Ron smiled. Then it was his turn to struggle. "It's a word that … well … it's a short way of writing a long word."

"Oh, okay."

_Nicely played, Ron._

"This one means 'Doctors.'" Ron explained. "Now you try the next word."

"J-j-j-aaaaa-mes," Mariko said.

"Right!"

"… and … Ann," Mariko read with relative ease.

"Uh-huh," Ron said encouragingly.

"P-poss-poss-i-ble!" Mariko read with mounting excitement. Her eyes flashed Kim's way and she began, "It's from-" and then quickly she pursed her lips and announced, "It's from Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P!"

"That's right, Honey," Ron said giving her a hug from behind. "Let's open it up and see what the Doctors P sent you!"

Together father and daughter did their best to open the envelope without totally demolishing it. Their efforts reminded Kim of Ron's childhood attempts to honor his mother's "save the paper" request every year on his birthday. In short, a well-intentioned, unqualified disaster. However, as had been the case with Ron's presents, the greeting card remained undamaged despite its envelope's transformation into a mangled wad of paper.

Mariko bit her lower lip as she looked at the front of the card.

"Ooooh, pretty," Ron said.

Mariko flipped the card over so Kim could see. Under a pink banner inscribed with fancy script, there was a drawing of a little girl in overall shorts wearing a floppy white sun hat and holding two armfuls of flowers. The outlines of the letters, the little girl, and the flowers were edged in purple and pink glitter.

"Wow," Kim said appreciatively.

Mariko slowly turned the card back around. She then tilted it back and forth for a few moments. Kim guessed she was letting the sunlight sparkle along the glitter lines.

"Are you going to read it, Honey?" Ron asked finally.

"Oh, yeah," Mariko nodded.

"Oops, maybe I should," Ron said quickly, "the writing's kinda fancy."

"No, daddy," Mariko nodded, "I can do it. 'F-for a ver-y … very … spesh-special girl!'"

"Very good, Sweetie!" Kim enthused.

_My goodness … her reading's excellent!_

Ron flipped the card open, and Mariko continued reading.

"Who we miss … bun-bunches and bunches!"

"Love, James and Ann," Ron concluded and then kissed his daughter on the top of her head.

Mariko happily turned the card around so Kim could see the inside, too.

Seeing her parents' signatures was emotionally jarring. Fortunately, Kim was able to hide her reaction by quickly rubbing her brow with her right hand. At least, she hoped she had. The burning around her eyes had been totally unexpected.

_I was around Mom and Dad for days! Why should just seeing their handwriting cause me to lose it?_

A moment later, she had regained control from beneath the shadow of her palm. She sniffled as inconspicuously as she could and directed her smiling face back to Ron and his daughter.

"Bubbe!" Mariko and Ron announced happily together. Then they both proceeded to destroy the pink envelope as carefully as possible.

As he stared at the card, Ron's smile became exceptionally goofy; however, his little girl's eyes were uncertain. Just as Kim was wondering what on the cover of the card could cause such different reactions, Ron reached down and shook the card by one of its bottom corners. A faint plastic-sounding rattle could be heard, and, almost immediately, Mariko's eyes lit up, and she began to laugh. And then Ron started to laugh. Their most decidedly Ronnish laughter lasted a good half-minute before Mariko flipped the card around so Kim could join in the fun.

On the front of the card was a very cartoonish monkey who was holding two bunches of bananas in under his arms, and one in his tail. Kim could see the monkey was coated in sparkly brown fuzz and had two plastic bubble eyes that contained black, plastic pupils.

"Isn't that funny, Rufina?" Mariko managed between giggles.

"I suppose," Kim said with a half-smile and a half-roll of her eyes.

Mariko shook the card, and the monkey's eyes twirled about crazily. Although she couldn't see the front of the card, Mariko was obviously remembering how hilarious the monkey's spinning eyes looked because she broke out into another fit of laughing. And snorting.

And _that_ made Kim crack up. And Kim's laughter made Mariko laugh harder and snort a couple more times. And even though he was still trying to get over his initial reaction to the card, the third snort from his daughter got Ron to lose control once more.

Maybe it was because she had grown unused to it for so long, but the laughing hurt Kim. But that was fine.

_Oh Ron, she is so much like you!_

When the three of them settled down, Mariko breezed through the card. "To my fav-o-rite ... favorite little monkey," she read and then opened the card. "I miss you bun-ches ... and ... _bunches_." Mariko was somewhat confused that both cards had the same exact message inside.

"That is kinda weird," Kim smiled, "but they both make sense." Mariko squished up her nose in thought and then nodded and smiled.

"Love and kisses and hugs, Bubbe," Ron read over his daughter's shoulder.

"Where did you get the mail, Mariko," Kim asked as Ron looked behind both sides of his back for the purple envelope.

"Oh," Mariko explained, "the mail ninjas bring it from a store at the bottom of the mountain."

"They do? Every day?"

"Every day, daddy?" Mariko asked looking up at her father's chin. He had just found the final card.

"Huh?"

"Rufina wanted to know if the mail ninjas bring the mail every day."

"Oh, nono," Ron shook his head. "Only once a month, Honey-I mean, Rufina." He shot a bemused look in Kim's direction.

His eyes didn't meet hers, but the gesture still produced a flutter right below Kim's navel.

"Now who is _this_ letter from, Honey?" Ron asked, lowering the lavender envelope slowly into his daughter's line of vision.

Mariko looked up, frowned, blinked once and then twice, and yelled, "Justin!" She gave Kim an anxious smile and then began bouncing her crossed legs fitfully upon her father's crossed legs.

"Whoa! Cool it down, Spunky Monkey!" Ron said just before he tickled her middle, causing her to go into spastic convulsions.

"Ron!" Kim said crossly, forgetting herself. "C'mon, let her open it!"

Ron went for the opposite side of Mariko's middle, but she snatched the envelope from him with her left hand and stayed his other hand in mid-tickle with her right.

"Daddy! Please!" she pleaded.

"Ok, ok," Ron conceded. After a beat, he said, "You have some pretty quick hands there, Little Girl-I'm impressed."

Considering Mariko's pitch of excitement, the lavender envelope surprisingly came out the least mutilated of the three.

"Oh," Mariko said softly as she held the card.

From its back, Kim could tell immediately that is was a hand-made card. A tangle of childhood memories crowded upon her, but she was able to brush them back without too much effort.

"Now _that_ is beautiful," Ron said with a solemn nod.

"What is it, Sweetie?" Kim asked, edging in as close as she could.

"I think," Mariko said as she turned the card to face Kim, "it's ... me."

Although Kim would have been hard pressed to imagine anything as adorable as the fish/mole-rats Mariko had drawn on her make-shift playing cards, Justin's drawing of Mariko was definitely in the same league. "Mariko's" head was much larger than the rest of her body, and her feet and arms were, apparently, hidden within the white night-kimono she was wearing. Her smile was like a capital "D" lying on its side, and her eyes were upside-down "U's." Underneath each eye were three brown dot-like freckles. And then, looking as if he had been drawn as an afterthought, Rufus, a pink swirl with buck-teeth, was draped around "Mariko's" thin neck like a feather boa.

There were no words on the card's cover. When Mariko flipped it open, a sheet of paper slid out. Ron picked up the sheet as his daughter tried to make sense of the words inside.

"Oh," Ron said with a frown, "It's Monique's writing-mucho fancy. I'll read it." He gently took the card from her and then proceeded to frown and squint for the next thirty seconds while his daughter looked expectantly, yet patiently, up at him.

Kim rolled her eyes. She knew that Monique had perfectly legible handwriting. Then the notion occurred to her that she could read the card herself-stand over Ron's shoulder, read it aloud, and then have Mariko repeat it back to him. But she quickly dismissed the idea because it would require Mariko lying, to some extent, to her father. Kim shook her heard; the little girl already did enough of that for her sake.

"Okay," Ron said finally. "I think I got it. 'H-hope you and your dad are happy back at your house. Japan is a long, long way away. Hope you enjoy the chocolate and stickers. I miss you. Your friend, Justin.'" After a moment, Ron cried, "Hey! Looks like Rufus signed your card too!"

"He did?"

"Sure 'nuff! I'd recognize that paw print anywhere!"

Mariko took back the card from her father and, for a long moment or two, smiled contentedly at the words that she couldn't quite make out and at Rufus' signature.

When she finally looked up to meet Kim's waiting look, the warmth in her eyes was palpable to her friend.

"Sorry, about the chocolates, Monkey," Ron said, breaking the silence.

"Huh?"

"The chocolates-I don't think they made it, Honey."

"Oh," Mariko said disappointed. "Why not?"

"Well, they might have gotten lost in the mail," Ron explained, "Middleton is a long way for a box of candy to travel. And sometimes they don't always let foods go from country to country."

"Oh." Mariko looked back at the inside of Justin's card and smiled. "That's okay, daddy."

"But, here are your stickers," Ron smiled, handing her the piece of paper that had fallen earlier.

"Yay!" Mariko clapped before taking the sheet. "What are stickers?"

_Okay, Ron, let's see if you can keep the streak alive._

"Uh," Ron began, "they're ... uh ... little pictures that you can put on things and they stick-uh, stay on those things forever."

"Really?" Mariko said, her eyes getting big. She flashed a look Kim's way.

"Well," Ron said rubbing the back of his neck, "yeah, more or less."

_Fair, Stoppable. Fair._

"What kind of things?"

"Well, when I was a kid I used to put stickers on everything-my lunch box, my locker, my scooter, I even put one on Rufus once ..."

"What's a lunch box?" Mariko asked, looking from her father to her friend and back to her father.

"And paper," Ron said quickly. "I used to put them on paper all the time."

"Oh! Can I-" Mariko began.

"Yes," Ron nodded as his daughter burst from his lap. "But only one piece!" he called after her, "We need to write back to Justin, Bubbe, and Mr. and Mrs. Dr. P!"

_Nice save, Ron._

Mariko beamed at Kim as she hurried toward the hallway.

"I also need to ask Monique about those stickers," Ron mumbled.

Kim sighed at Ron's comment. No doubt, stickers were not "honorable."

Ron stood up and walked to where he had dropped the two white envelopes on the floor. They were face-down, but when he turned them over, Kim could see her father's handwriting on the top one. Ron plopped back down to the floor and stared at the letter from Kim's dad. He sighed deeply and then tore the envelope open.

An icy sensation took possession of Kim's middle. She shut her eyes. And then a second later forced them back open.

_No, I can't hide from this._

She got to her feet and stepped quickly behind Ron. She edged in close-to the point where the keening was just bearable, leaned over, and began to read.

It was difficult. Kim was trying to stay focused on the words while maintaining her balance at the same time she tried to ignore the nervous pulsations from her stomach as well as keep an ear and eye out for Mariko. She would so rather not have had the little girl see her reading over her daddy's shoulder, but Kim had to know what was happening with her family. Although she could certainly have Mariko retrieve the letter for her later, Kim didn't want to involve her if it contained bad news. It was at this moment that Kim realized that she had not retained a single word she had read.

She blinked and went over the page again. This second time was not as haphazard as her first time; however, Kim would only latch onto certain phrases and words that seemed serious or dire and then anxiously read through the sentences in which they belonged. "Hospital," "test," and, of course, "your mother," spied towards the last third of the page, were such words.

Kim inched up on her tiptoes and held back her hair to see the last few lines on the page- Kim's dad was explaining that her mother had received the test results, but not what they were. They must have been on the next page.

_Please, please, hurry up, Ron. Please!_

After an inexorable ten seconds, Ron finished reading the first page and after an irritating, yet understandable, two second hesitation, he flipped to the second.

Kim's eyes found the word "tumor" at the instant Ron released a heavy sigh. She pushed everything aside and resolutely read the sentence from start to finish and then continued to the next one. Her mind raced determinedly against the mounting dread in her stomach until she reached the word "benign." Immediately the tension dispersed, and her thoughts gravitated toward the less dire phrases in the remaining paragraphs of her dad's letter-like "doing fine," "still here waiting for you," and "love you both."

At the moment Ron breathed "Coolio," Kim lost her balance and was thrown back against the floor by his invisible boundary.

She was laughing with easy relief when Mariko turned the corner, holding a single sheet of paper in both hands.

"What took you so long, Honey," Ron asked happily.

Mariko stopped abruptly and then asked, her brow wrinkled in thought, "Is it okay if I put a sticker on your case?"

"Uh, noooo," Ron said slowly.

"Oh, good," Mariko brightened, "because I didn't. I thought one would look nice there, but I didn't do it."

Ron gently shook his head and then continued reading.

Mariko sat on her knees next to Kim, but when she looked up her smile suddenly vanished. "I'm sorry, Rufina."

"Sorry?" Kim asked confused.

"I should have asked you to come with me," the little girl said with some difficulty.

"Are you okay, Honey?" Ron asked, looking away from the letter.

"Shhh," Kim consoled, putting her arm around her friend's shoulder. "It's okay. You were only gone a minute, and I didn't go anywhere, did I? Don't give it a second thought, sweetheart."

"Mariko?" Ron said, his full attention on his daughter. "What's wrong?"

The little girl swallowed hard and nodded to Kim's kind words and then said to her father, "I'm okay, daddy. I was just sad about Rufina."

Ron looked at his daughter for what seemed a long time before he started reading again.

"Let's see what Justin sent you," Kim said pleasantly. However, when Mariko placed the sheet of decals face up on the floor, Kim couldn't have been more surprised.

"A-are those ... ghosts?"

"Are they?" Mariko asked excitedly.

"Yes, they are." Kim assured her.

"So that's what they look like," Mariko said thoughtfully as she gazed at the set of sixteen identical ridiculously drawn bubble-nosed spirits. Their periwinkle eyes and innocuous grins belied any notion that they were supposed to be objects of fear.

"What _what_ looks like, honey?" Ron asked.

"Ghosts, daddy," Mariko explained.

"Oh yeah," Ron nodded as he picked up the second envelope.

Kim absently noticed Barbara Jo's handwriting upon it.

"I have no idea where Monique found those stickers this time of year," Ron said, shaking his head and opening the envelope.

"That's funny," Kim said with the beginnings of a smile, "I thought Justin was scared of ghosts."

"Not anymore," Mariko stated, and then she brightened excitedly. "Oh, I didn't tell you! Justin saw a ghost at Bubbe's house!"

"He did?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded. "He saw it in her yard the night before we came back home-Justin told me all about it before breakfast."

Kim pictured the little boy getting out of bed sometime after she had left the room to look for Ron. She could see him walking to the window-Ron's jersey dragging upon the carpet, and then slowly looking out the foggy window on his tiptoes.

"And he wasn't scared?" Kim asked.

"No, it didn't scare him at all," Mariko explained, excitement building as she spoke. "He said it was very nice and that he'll never be scared by ghosts again!"

"Really?" Although Kim knew Monique's son had probably dreamed the entire event, she was definitely pleased that his nights were, apparently, no longer as traumatic as her BFF had described them that evening at her parent's dinner table.

"How do they walk?" Mariko asked, carefully examining the illustrations. "They don't have any feet."

"Well, they _don't_ walk," Kim explained, "they kinda just float around." And then she moved her right hand in a gently back-and-forth wave to demonstrate.

"Wow," Mariko said looking from Kim's hand back to the stickers, "I wish _I_ could have seen the ghost."

A noise punctured the calm of the living room. In words that flew through her mind quicker than she could speak them, Kim wondered if real ghosts actually made noise, moaned "boo" like in the drawing Ron had made her during their preschool Halloween party, or if they were completely, impossibly silent. She turned her head toward the sound, toward Ron.

_Oh God!_

As soon as she saw the tears running down the back of his hand and into his goatee, she broke down too.

III.

Mariko was tentatively trying to work her fingernail beneath the seam of one of the stickers. When she looked up to ask Kim if she was doing it right, her mind was stilled by confusion and swarming dread. She looked with mounting fear from the face of her best friend to her father and then back to Kim.

Covering her mouth, Kim gazed at her with gentle eyes, eyes pooling with compassion and sadness.

"Daddy?!" Mariko cried, looking desperately to her father.

IV.

Kim watched Ron clear his eyes with the back of his hand and, with as much control as he could, give his daughter the terrible news. "I'm sorry, Honey, ... Rufus ... Rufus died."

"No! Daddy, no!" Mariko stood up and shakily began walking toward her father.

Kim quickly got to her knees and, with her outstretched arm, steadied the sobbing child. She gave Mariko's shoulder a squeeze and then gently guided the child as close to her father as the keening would allow.

Mariko collapsed into Ron's arms, he kissed her cheek, and then they both convulsed into choking sobs.

Kim inched away from them and shrank into a tiny ball, clasping her bent knees tightly to her chest with her left arm. The back of her throat and her chest burned painfully. She rocked back and forth, squeezing her right hand tightly over her mouth. Although she kept the words hidden from Mariko, they still echoed within her own head. "So sorry ... Rufus ... so ... so … sorry ..."

She kept her gaze fixed upon father and daughter. In her grief-stricken state, she half-believed that maybe, perhaps, she could radiate love or comfort or something to ease their pain. Finally, however, the heartbreaking sight become too much, and she had to turn away.

She had no idea how much time was passing nor did she care. Every time there was a break in her own cries, those of her best friends flooded her ears.

Her mind did not register the outline of the pear-shaped shadow, blurred by tears, until after the dwelling's door had been officiously slid open.

V.

"Stoppable-san." Sensei's reproach seemed to reverberate within the walls of the cell.

Kim was immediately up in his face.

"LEAVE US ALONE!"

She had screamed so loudly that her throat ached.

She shoved her clenching fists against his chest only to find herself tossed harmlessly upon the floor some two feet from him.

She resolutely climbed back to her feet, but as she blinked her vision clear, she discovered his cold, precise eyes looking right through her and knew, numbly, that they were barring down upon her loved ones as if she wasn't even there.

Her legs gave way. As she collapsed against the hard floor, the intense pain radiating from her knees did not even temporarily cloud her overwhelming sense of powerlessness. "Leave them alone," she wept, "leave them alone."

Childishly, she wiped her nose on her sleeve and turned away from the old man only to meet the look in Mariko's terror-stricken eyes.

Kim felt like she was going to pass out. She laid her head heavily against the floor and reflexively closed her eyes.

All the rest passed in darkness.

"Stoppable-san," Sensei repeated harshly.

"Sensei," Ron uttered with difficulty.

"What is the meaning-"

"Rufus died, Sensei."

A pause. "I see."

Nothing was said for quite some time. The silence was measured by the staccato pulse of the old man's breathing and the little girl's occasional sniffles.

"We will discuss Rufus-san later."

"Yes, Sensei." Ron's voice said.

"I expect that all … all _this_ will be honorably stored away."

" _Yes_ , Sensei." The sound of crumpling paper followed Ron's words.

"I trust this will not change this evening's-"

" _ **Yes**_ , Sensei."

Kim shuddered slightly as Ron's voice ignited a frightening memory from her second day at Yamanouchi.

The resulting silence was pierced by a sudden gust of wind. Once it had died down, Kim made out the barely perceptible sliding of the dwelling's door shut.

More silence.

Kim wanted so badly to open her eyes, but for some reason she found that she couldn't. For a long moment, she was convinced that they _were_ open and that she had blacked out again.

Then she felt a gentle, warm touch on the crown of her head. She opened her eyes.

Mariko was standing above her. Her blue socks blocked Kim's view of the rest of the room. However, before Kim could raise her head, she was assaulted by Ron's intense keening as he quickly marched toward his daughter. She shrank back slightly from the sound and closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them again, Ron was walking toward the hall, his little girl slung over his shoulder. Mariko's face was hidden from view.

Kim slowly raised herself into a sitting position. Her eyes fell listlessly upon the torn and scattered pastel envelopes, the discarded sticker sheet, and the forgotten letter pages. It all seemed like so much litter.

She bowed her head.

She hated herself for losing control before Sensei. She feared what irreparable harm it had caused her relationship with Ron's little girl. And crowning everything was the unbearable knowledge that her smallest friend had died all alone.

VI.

But Rufus had not died alone.

VII.

The shadows had dramatically shifted along the main room's walls since the last time she had lifted her head, so Kim knew a good deal of time had passed. She sighed and attempted to get up. Unfortunately, the sense of weakness had not left, and she soon sat down again.

She glanced around and her eyes fell upon the card Justin had made. The image on its cover quickly blurred. Kim wasn't crying; she didn't believe she could anymore. Still, her eyes were misting to the point she couldn't see clearly. She turned her head in another direction and waited for them to clear.

As her eyes refocused, they latched onto a bleary black squiggle in the center of her blank vision. Slowly this vague mark distilled into a word, a single word among many. Then Kim recognized Barbara Jo's printing and realized that she was inadvertently staring at a page from the letter. She was in the act of turning her face away when her mind acknowledged which word it was. It was a name: Justin.

She rubbed her eyes clear and read the entire sentence. Then the sentence that followed it and then the sentence that came before. After she finished the entire page, she noticed a small numeral "4" written in its upper-left corner. Quickly, she got to her feet and found another page to the letter, this one with a numeral "2" in the corner. Page number three was lying near the door; page number five was found at the hall's entrance. After careful inspection on her hands and knees, Kim was able to discern that a crumpled ball of paper near the center of the room was page one.

Kim then went back to page two and began reading. When she was finished, she quickly walked to the front door and read page three. By the time she was half-way down page four, she was crying again. But this time, the tears were cathartic, not excruciating.

She eagerly went to the hallway and finished reading page five just as the door of Ron's cell slid open.

Mariko, red-eyed with tangled hair, hesitantly walked toward her.

Kim urgently waved the little girl toward her before she could speak.

"What is it, Rufina?" she said as she approached.

Kim grasped her hand and led her into the living room and toward the front door. She gestured for the little girl to kneel down and pointing at the top of the page, said, "Read this sentence, sweetheart."

Mariko looked in Kim's eyes and then at the paper. She swallowed and began.

"J-just-in … Justin?" She looked expectantly at Kim, a brief flash crossing her small features.

"Uh-huh," Kim smiled. "Go on."

"Justin … c-came … to … visit … R-rufus …ev-ever-every day s-sin-since ... you left." She looked up at her friend. "He did?"

Kim nodded. "Get your daddy to read you the entire thing. It will make you both feel a whole lot better."

Mariko got to her feet and went to wake up her daddy.

VIII.

Barbara Jo had been somewhat surprised when Monique rang her doorbell the day after Ron and Mariko had flown back to Japan. It had been a pleasant surprise, but certainly unexpected.

Once they were alone, Monique had explained to Ron's mom that she too was surprised by Justin's request to come visit.

"Justy is still uncomfortable going to _my_ parent's house! The boy doesn't even like going to the toy store; it is usually home to school and school to home. So you know how shocked I was when he told me that he wanted to stop by."

Justin was a very polite, kind-hearted, and intensely shy boy. All of Barbara Jo's first impressions from the dinner at the Possibles' the night before had been confirmed by this first solo meeting with Rufus. He asked before he did anything, but it was always with a great deal of difficulty. At one point on that first day, Justin had asked Barbara Jo if it was okay to open Rufus' cage. However, by the time he had worked up the courage and stammered out his request, the naked mole-rat had already unlatched the door himself.

Rufus had been expressively excited to see Justin and the two had played for a good hour in Ron's room before the little guy had grown tired and curled around the little boy's shoulder.

"Feel free to come by and play with Rufus anytime you'd like, Justin!" Barbara Jo had said as Monique and Justin had climbed into their car.

The next day, Monique had called Barbara Jo shortly before noon to ask if it was okay if Justin stopped by again. She explained that he'd asked on the ride to school.

After the fourth visit, Ron's mom correctly assumed that she would have a daily visitor for some time to come. And at the end of every visit, Justin seemed a little less shy than he had at when the visit began. At the beginning of the second week, Barbara Jo asked him if he would like to have some cocoa, and he had made eye contact with her and smiled easily when he answered "yes." Two days later, he felt comfortable enough in the Stoppable home that his mother could leave him in the house to run a few errands.

Monique confirmed for Barbara Jo that this was a "HTPSTW" moment. She then explained that this meant a "hold-the-phone-and-stop-the-world" event since her son had never been able to spend any time, with the exception of school, away from his parents before … except the night he had slept over with Mariko.

Justin and Rufus began by playing hide-n-seek in Ron's room. Usually, Rufus would let the little boy find him. And twice, Rufus let Justin take him for a walk in his plastic ball. On another day Rufus helped Justin finish his card to Mariko. Mostly, however, they would just play little games on Ron's bed and then Rufus would take a nap on Justin's forearm.

After the first few weeks, Rufus could _only_ nap on Justin. Regardless of how tired he was, however, Rufus would always rouse himself for a few a minutes when Justin arrived.

And then one day he didn't.

Barbara Jo hadn't been able to reach Monique on her cell phone to pick up her son, but then Justin explained that he _wanted_ to ride to the vet with Rufus. He had sat in Mariko's car seat with Rufus' smaller, portable cage sitting next to him. When he stroked Rufus' pale skin through the bars, the little guy had given him a small smile.

After giving Rufus a very brief look over, the doctor asked to speak with Barbara Jo outside and left Rufus and Justin alone in the tiny examination room. Something must have passed between them, however, because once she re-entered the room Justin was in tears as Rufus stroked the little boy's finger and made consolatory squeaks.

She knew she would not need to relate the bad news the doctor had given her.

Rufus stopped eating three days later. Even so, he kept clutching a half-eaten piece of cheese Justin had given him sometime earlier. Since he no longer had an appetite, Barbara Jo believed Rufus did this because the cheese reminded him of the little boy.

The Rentons, the Possibles, Wade, Jim, Tim, Joss and her boyfriend, and even Dr. Director from GJ came to wish Rufus good-bye. With more energy than he had displayed for almost a week, Rufus smiled and squeaked at each of his visitors. Within an half hour, he fell asleep, curled into crook of Justin's arm. A few minutes later, he was gone.

Among the multiple condolences and posthumous tributes that Rufus received, Barbara Jo knew that her son and granddaughter would be most comforted to know that Rufus had passed peacefully, cradled in the arm of a new friend.

IX.

After Mariko had woken her father and explained what she had read in the letter, he had slowly, reluctantly gathered the pages and forced himself to read the letter in silence. Once he was able to, Ron sat Mariko on his lap and reread it aloud. There were frequent pauses, but they were okay.

As Ron neared the end of the letter, it began to rain again. Apparently, a storm had been drummed up by the sudden winds and was passing across the mountain's top.

Kim sat in Mariko's cell with her back to the wall. The soothing beat of the rain mixed with the ebb and flow of Ron's voice as he read the letter from the other room. Every so often, she would wipe her cheeks with her palm or the sleeve of her peasant shirt. But that was okay. Although they seemed as endless as the rain outside Mariko's window and walls, her tears were gentle, too.

X.

"Rufina?"

Kim looked up to see Mariko slowly edging around the doorway of her room.

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

The little girl came within a few feet of where Kim was sitting before an alarmed look crossed her face. She turned and hurriedly went back and slid her door closed. When she came back, she stood over her friend with a very troubled expression.

"Sweetheart?" Kim asked again.

"You," Mariko began hesitantly. Then she fell silent.

"Yes?"

"You were ... dishonorable today." Mariko looked to the floor when she said the 'd word.'

"I know I was," Kim said with regret. "I'm so sorry, Mariko."

The little girl immediately looked at her friend, her face bathed in relief. However, it suddenly clouded over with concern. "It's okay, Rufina-I mean, it's not _that_ bad," she said rapidly, "I know you don't like Sensei, and he was being really, really mean today!"

"But I still shouldn't have done what I did." Kim answered simply.

"No," Mariko agreed. Deep in thought, she looked at her friend for a very long time. Finally, she spoke. "There is no reason to hurt someone. We can't agree with Sensei, not always, but we should never try to hurt him ... or anyone. We must always be honorable even if he-if someone else is being mean. You mustn't do that ever again ... please?"

Kim listened in silence and then nodded her agreement to her friend's plea.

Mariko smiled and then gave Kim a hug. The relief was mutual.

"He isn't always mean, Rufina," Mariko whispered in her friend's ear. "Sometimes he is really nice. My mommy loved him, and she wouldn't love someone who was always mean."

XI.

After they had finished their dinner, Ron changed into his black gi. Rina arrived shortly after nightfall.

The sight of her friend and the twelve-year-old dressed identically alike made Kim feel somewhat uncomfortable. However, the smile the older girl gave Mariko after they had exchanged bows effectively shut-off Kim's weirdar. Not only was the idea of Rina coming out of her shell pleasing, it was also comforting to know that Mariko had another friend and wouldn't feel completely alone when Kim "wasn't there."

Mariko gestured for her father to bend down and then whispered something into his ear. He nodded, and she took off quickly for his room.

As Kim was about to follow her, she saw Ron approach Rina.

"Rina-chan," he began, his voice low and sad, "something happened today ..."

Kim sighed and began walking toward the hall. Before she reached Ron's doorway, however, she met Mariko coming out.

"Going to show Rina your ghosts?" she smiled.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded. "I can bring them out for special occasions, and daddy said that this was one."

"I'm glad."

After he had read his mother's letter to Mariko, Ron had gathered all the pages from both letters, the cards and their envelopes, and Mariko's sticker sheet and placed them inside the case in his room. Apparently, Sensei feared such correspondences might _dishonor_ the great Yamanouchi school if left out in the open.

Rina regarded the little girl with sadness when she and Kim entered the main room. Her expression quickly turned to one of surprise and mild concern when Mariko showed her the sticker sheet and offered to give her one of the stickers.

"I don't think Rina has anything she could stick that ghost to," Ron explained to Mariko as he shot the twelve-year-old a reassuring look.

"I could draw her a picture and put the ghost on that," Rina countered with a smile.

"Only if she wants you to," Ron said and then he added as he slung a small backpack across his shoulder and walked toward the door, "I really need to get going, Honey. Be good."

"Farewell, Stoppable-san," Rina said with a bow.

Mariko ran to her father, and, just before he could slide the door open, he knelt down to catch her incoming embrace.

"l love you, daddy."

"I love you, Mariko."

The tremor evident in both their voices made Kim look away briefly. When she turned back, she saw her best friend tenderly brush a tear from his daughter's cheek. And then he stood and slid open the door to reveal a large, bristling samurian brandishing a sword.

XII.

Before Kim could even react, the monkey samurai had jumped a few feet backward, allowing Ron to step through the door. He sucked his teeth at Ron and then sliced at the air with hostile abandon. Despite this, the monkey warrior seemed to be giving The Chosen One all the space he needed.

Once Ron slid the door shut, Kim immediately turned to Mariko. "Mariko-I need you to open your window-now!"

The look of surprise on the little girl's face disappeared quickly, and she turned and ran toward her cell. As they both reached the rear of the room, Rina's voice echoed from the main room, "Mariko-chan, what are you doing?"

"Just a minute," the little girl called back as she began struggling with the shutter.

"Not that much, Sweetie," Kim said in a quick, kind voice, "just enough for me to squeeze through."

As she crawled through the tiny space, she gave Mariko a hurried wink, "Thanks! I'll see you soon."

Kim reached the ground and was able to exchange a very brief smile with Mariko before the closing window swallowed the little girl back inside.

Kim took off toward the side of the building where she believed, hoped, Ron was also headed. Rounding the corner, she heard the clanking of the monkey's samurai sword against the stone path. Then she heard his unpleasant snorting.

_For guys with pretensions to a distinguished class of ancient warriors, they sure aren't stealthy._

Again, Kim wondered how it was possible that no one noticed all the racket they made.

_Oh yeah, that's right-_ _**honor** _ _magic._

She was still in mid-grouse when she spied Ron disappearing under the shadows of the trees at the southern end of the courtyard. Loping noisily some ten feet behind was the samurian. Kim launched herself full speed in pursuit.

Ron was giving the Keep a wide berth. He led them along a narrow trail that ran along the thin swath of vegetation edging the cliff. As the path veered closer to the edge and dived into the woods at the rear of the massive building, he picked up speed.

All of Kim's senses were crisp and on high-alert. She had already dodged two branches left swaying in either Ron's or the monkey's wake. A nicely executed handspring had allowed her to avoid a pair of floating leaves that suddenly appeared and subsequently barred her path. Then, as the vegetation got thicker and encroached upon her more frequently at odder and more awkward angles, Kim found herself getting into a groove. The sudden ducks and spins needed to avoid even the slightest barrier were coming automatically to her. If she hadn't been so grimly determined to keep pace with her best friend and his pursuer, the feeling bubbling along her arms and legs might have caused her to smile.

Suddenly, the pathway dove down a steep decline. As it did so, it curled around an outcropping in the cliff's face. Fortunately, the trees and shrubs thinned out to nothing. However, the pathway deteriorated and was scattered with loose stones. Although she had a hairy second or two, Kim was able to adjust her speed and make the right movements to accommodate for the sudden change.

Kim took their precarious location as a good sign. It justified her suspicion, her hope, that the samurian was only tracking Ron. If he meant to attack him, this place would provide a perfect opportunity.

Unfortunately, she never saw the tiny rock the samurian kicked up as he chased Ron around the first sharp bend along the cliff. It struck midway up her right shin and sent her spiraling over the cliff's edge.

Kim screamed as she ricocheted into the darkness below.

It began to rain.

XIII.

The pain from the innumerable impacts ebbed in slow waves from Kim's body. She stared listlessly at the raindrops as they glistened and faded mere fractions of an inch above her face. With disinterest, a part of her mind reflected that from this position, they looked falling stars.

But there were no true falling stars. Those were only meteorites burning in the upper atmosphere. Her father had explained the phenomenon to her when she was three. Somehow, he had explained it in such a way that meteorites seemed even more magical than falling stars had.

_Doesn't matter. They're just raindrops._

All the pain was gone, but still she didn't get up. Instead, she closed her eyes and listened to the ceaseless drumming of the rain-rain that was falling all about her, but could never touch her.

Her eyes sprang open and she turned toward a sudden noise somewhere off to her left. She stared intently into the darkness for several minutes, but nothing happened.

_Stop being stupid, Possible!_

For a few fleeting moments, a sudden, incredible hope had awakened inside her chest. Now that Rufus was gone, maybe, just maybe, he was like she was now. And maybe, he would return to Yamanouchi, and then together they could rescue Ron and Mariko. Maybe.

Kim bitterly closed her eyes.

For the better part of a half hour, she lied there, listening to the rain. Twice more, an unusual sound caught her attention. Twice more, she roundly cursed herself for being so stupid. Finally, she sighed deeply and got to her feet. Although she couldn't remember crying, she found that her nose was running. She looked around in the darkness to get her bearings.

Rufus was not coming, and it was time to go home.

XIV.

It didn't take Kim long to locate the Keep, its white walls edged by the dark twisted trees on the cliff's edge high above her. As brightly lit as it was, the building couldn't help but serve as a de facto beacon for the school. From its perceived size from her location, Kim figured she had plummeted at least eight hundred feet.

She shook her head and began scaling her way up the cliff. This proved to be exceptionally easy. Since no physical objects had any give for her in her state, even the thinnest branch and the smallest tuft of weeds growing between adjacent boulders became perfect grappling points for her ascent. Additionally, traction was no factor, so the rain-slick rocks were not an impediment either. The lightning began lightening not long after she started, but, apart from the annoying ringing the nearby strikes produced in her ears, she paid them no mind.

About mid-way up, Kim thought she saw a flickering light some sixty feet or so above her. As she climbed higher, her impression became a conviction. There _was_ a light, but it was steady. When she was some twenty feet below it, she arrived at a ledge jutting out from the cliff. She climbed over the edge and noticed that the cliff recessed significantly for a short area. She had noticed the pronounced slanting angle of the cliff from the moment she began her climb, but this section seemed markedly more so. In fact, the random, semi-crazy notion occurred to her that this small section, including the ledge that she was now standing upon, had been cut or carved out of the rock face.

_Wait ... didn't Wade mention that the founder of Yamanouchi used the Lotus Blade to carve the school out of the mountain?_

As she tried to remember exactly what Wade had told her about the founder of the school junior year, she discovered that the light she had been tracking was emanating from a small cave. Lightning flashed.

_Whoah! Waitaminute-what was that?_

When the lightning flashed, it had illuminated the entire "recessed" area of the cliff. Obscured by small trees and clusters of undergrowth, the rock formations looked almost as if they ... well ... it was almost as if they were not natural formations at all. Rather, they looked as if they were configurations-arranged with an inherent design, a directed purpose. Like an image.

The lightning flashed again.

_A skull._

She was certain.

The entrance to the eerily-lit cavern was perfectly round. To its right, obscured by a tree's trunk and a bush, was another cave. It, too, had an impossible perfectly circular entrance.

Below the caves and positioned equidistant between them, a smaller, sharp-edged hollow was carved into the cliff's face. It mimicked, to a greater or lesser degree, the concavity of the nasal passage.

Not two yards from her feet, an assortment of smooth boulders-none larger than a medicine ball, were arranged and stacked into two neat, elongated rows.

The placement of the different "features" conveyed a distinctive, uncanny impression. The exceedingly recessed nature of the caves (or the "eyes") and the thick overhanging ridge that both sheltered and crowned them left little doubt in her mind that the "skull" was intended to be one of an ape or of a monkey.

Kim jumped over the "teeth," skirted the "nose," and then sprinted headlong into the spectral, fulgent "eye" of the stone simian.

XV.

The intense radiance emanating from somewhere up ahead became almost painful as Kim made her way inside the tunnel. The passageway was on an incline that steadily grew more and more pronounced. It was narrowing as well. As she shielded her eyes from the oppressive glare, Kim glanced at the floor's glass-smooth surface and silently gave thanks for her frictionless state.

Immediately and abruptly, the light went out. Kim halted and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. After a few moments, she registered a much dimmer gray light filtering through the mutinous shadows. Hesitantly, she followed it about twenty feet further up the tunnel. It wasn't much, but it was enough for her to find her way, to illuminate cobwebs for her to duck beneath, and to let her know when the passage became too narrow for her to stand.

Ironically, as Kim got to her knees and began crawling through the increasingly constricting cavern, she began, once more, to feel like she was getting into a groove, getting into her zone. She had no idea where she was headed, no clear notion of what it was she hoped to accomplish by going on. Nevertheless, a pleasant flame within her chest was smoldering. Thinking of Mariko and Ron made the feeling spread to the rest of her body.

_I won't let you down. I won't._

Finally, she reached the tunnel's end. It had become so narrow that she needed to bunch in her shoulders and leverage herself ahead by her elbows. Yet, just before it became impassable, the tunnel opened onto an extremely large ante-chamber that housed the source of the dull, numbing light.

Kim reflexively held her breath as she took in the cathedral-like chamber. Tiered in a concentric, coliseum-like arrangement were hundreds and hundreds of monkey idols. The vast diversity in sizes and styles was astounding and threatened to overload her senses. She shook her head and tried to take in what she could. She spotted a small headless idol sitting upon an upper level on the opposite side of the chamber. it appeared to be holding ... cymbals. To her far right, there was an immense statue of a gorilla holding a broadsword; the idol towered over the entire room. With its head nearly touching the high domed ceiling, it gave the impression that it was either part of the chamber itself or was serving as one of its main supports. With the exception of the single statue without a head, all the monkey idols shared one common trait. Their eyes rhythmically pulsed with a faint crimson glow.

It was same crimson glow that encased a familiar figure floating at the center-point of the large hall. And, Kim noted without surprise, it was the same blood-tinged aura that was, at that moment, clouding Sensei's eyes.

* * *

_To be continued ..._


	18. Seventeen

I.

Kim paused momentarily to scan the immense chamber, taking in as many details of its layout as she could. "Okay," she said finally. And then she smiled. "Time to find out what's the sitch."

With some difficulty, she wriggled her arms from beneath her. She glanced at a ribbon-thin path some twenty feet below her that acted as a de facto aisle between two tiered sections of idols. Placing her hands flat upon the wall, Kim took a quick breath and then pushed hard, launching herself into the air. Executing a double flip, she landed gracefully on her left foot and right knee in the center of the aisle.

_Oh man!_

Kim covered her nose and mouth quickly.

A thick odor of decay churned above the floor. Turning her head, Kim noticed an enormous swath of black mold coating the rear wall of the chamber. She shivered slightly, but certainly not because she felt a chill. Whereas the temperature had seemed almost brisk at the elevation of the entrance tunnel, at ground level the air radiated with fetid, roiling heat. Kim closed her eyes as her senses were momentarily overrun.

Kim shook off the unpleasantness, stood up, and, with building determination, began walking down the declining path. Toward Sensei. As she neared the center of the "monkey coliseum," the wretched sensations of the room gradually ebbed to the point where they were almost bearable. Strangely, as the conditions improved, the room seemed to grow darker.

Kim noticed that the outer rings of the room were lit by a dull white glow that emanated from the lower edges of the doomed ceiling. The apex of the vast ceiling, however, was hidden in a black mass of shadows. She paused and listened. Within a few seconds she caught the faint, yet unmistakable hum of fluorescent lights.

_But, of course, Honor Central has electricity._

She shook her head and continued to make her way toward the Honor's floating guru. With the exception of a handful of furtive glances at the rows of monkey idols she was passing, Kim kept her eyes fixed upon Sensei. Perhaps, he chose not to light the center of the chamber to facilitate meditation.

_Or maybe he thinks his rosy glow looks scarier in the dark._

Without question, the orb and Sensei's glowing eyes _were_ creepy, especially since this same light was reflected in the legions of eyes that encircled him. However, the creepiness was not overpowering. For one thing, there was no undulating, eerie hum to go along with this light show. Save for the fluorescent lights, the chamber was completely silent. Secondly, there was something distinctly off about the sinister crimson gloaming. It would have been one thing if the lights in the statues' and the master's eyes pulsed with a synchronous, regular beat. But they didn't. The rhythm was uneven, almost erratic in nature. In fact, if the sea of demonic eyes reminded Kim of anything it was of strands and strands of tangled Christmas lights just before they shorted out.

Most importantly, the fixed, unseeing stare Sensei was balefully giving his inanimate audience wasn't really a stare at all. The first time she noticed it happening, around the time she was able to remove her hand from her nose, Kim believed she was mistaken, that her eyes were playing tricks. Yet, within seconds, Sensei blinked again. As she got closer, she got the definite impression that he was beginning to nod off.

And then, twice, he did something totally un-trance-like. He slowly raised the right sleeve of his robe toward his face almost as if he was going to stroke his chin. However, the upper edge of his sleeve-his hand remained hidden-went up to the bridge of his nose, paused a few moments, and then slowly lowered back to the folds of robe lying in his lap. Both times Kim saw him do it, she noticed that his eyes remained closed for a good ten seconds or so after the gesture was completed and then sprang open-their lights a touch more intense than before the gesture began. She had no idea what this action's meaning or purpose might be, but it certainly did not fill her with dread.

She climbed upon the raised dais in the chamber's center and approached Sensei. His orb was hovering maybe three feet above the floor. She absently rubbed her shoulders. The air had a slight chill to it, and Kim noticed that there was no trace of sickening mildew to it. She turned and briefly looked out upon the view Sensei had chosen for himself.

_Bad idea, Possible._

Kim shook her head and massaged the sharp pain in her right temple. She had not been assaulted by any mystical force radiating from those hundreds of sets of eyes. Rather, the sight been incredibly irritating and dizzying.

_Won't make_ _**that** _ _mistake twice._

Once she regained her equilibrium, Kim turned and raised her eyes to the old man whom she held responsible for so much misery to so many people that she loved.

His eyes were shut to her.

When they opened a few instants later-once again with renewed aura-they did not regard her. Sensei gave her less notice than one gives the wind through an empty space. Regardless, Kim did not break her gaze from the old man's unseeing eyes. As the crimson glow slowly faded from them, she discerned the tiny obsidian pupils that lay beneath. As intense as their darkness was, she couldn't fail to notice that the whites of the eyes were rheumy and the flesh surrounding them bunched and tired.

After a few moments, Kim extended her right hand toward the glowing orb. She discovered that her hand, that both her hands, were balled tightly into fists. The intensity of her anger had been so high that it had been invisible to her.

With a conscious effort, Kim relaxed her right fist and placed it, palm down, flat upon the orb's surface. Nothing.

She didn't know what she had been expecting exactly-perhaps her hand would have passed through or she might have felt a weird sensation when her skin touched the mystical shell. However, like a door, a soap bubble, or any other material thing in her universe, the orb was just another dead obstacle Kim could not breach.

_Wait a minute ..._

Something had been troubling Kim that last night in Middleton, something that she hadn't been able to put her finger on. She had recalled that whatever it was it had occurred during dinner at her parents' house, but that was all she had been able to determine. The mystery had not crossed her mind since that evening. Now she knew what it was.

At the end of the meal, Justin had walked passed her on his way to join Mariko in the kitchen. As with Sensei, there had been no keening when he got close to her. Only the sound of his corduroy trousers rubbing together had alerted her to his presence.

Much more importantly, Justin had gotten _so_ close to her that she had had to jump out of his way. As with Mariko, there had been no boundary between Kim and the little boy.

_Wait-but that-does that mean ... ?_

II.

An eruption of blinding light from the far left of the chamber shattered Kim's train of thought. Quickly, she dove off the dais and crouched within the shadows of the first rows of haphazardly arranged idols. Trying to quiet and steady her breathing, Kim watched as a dark silhouette, highlighted by a shaft of light from an open portal, marched toward Sensei. Just as she recognized the outline as Hirotaka's, the doorway closed noiselessly behind him, and dull gloom regained the cavernous room. As the ninja drew closer to her hiding place, Kim wondered how she might change her position without him noticing and ...

_Waitaminute-Doi! What are you thinking, Possible?_

The epiphany over Justin combined with Hirotaka's sudden entrance had momentarily made Kim forget herself. If her emotions had not been so tangled and brittle, she might have laughed.

Shaking her head, Kim stood up and then leapt back on the dais to await Hirotaka's arrival. She eyed the tall assassin narrowly as he approached and then bowed before his master's bubble.

And he remained in that position for a good moment or two. Although he appeared the picture of composure and self-control, Kim definitely sensed an impatient edge to Hirotaka's demeanor as he waited for Sensei to acknowledge his presence.

A moment later, the glowing orb began a glacial descent to the chamber's floor. As it finally touched down and vanished, the glow from the multitude of simian eyes seemed to sputter and then switch off. The crimson glow to Sensei's eyes had also dissipated.

He slowly eased from the lotus position and stood. However, he did not return the ninja's long-held bow or even look in his direction. The old man was still staring at the darkened, lifeless statues arrayed before him.

"We must speak about the death of Rufus-san," his cold voice intoned finally.

"The only thing to speak of," Hirotaka said as he rose from his bow, "is that there is now one less pretender with Mystical Monkey Power." The detached tone of his voice was belied by the insouciant smirk upon his lips.

"Your arrogance," Sensei snapped, turning to the ninja with trembling rage, "will be the undoing of all!"

Kim, who had been about to launch a verbal attack of her own against the ninja, had been completely taken aback by the old man's outburst. She had never seen him so visibly outraged. So thoroughly out of control.

"Forgive my dishonor, Sensei," Hirotaka said with some effort as he retreated into a pronounced bow.

"Your lack of respect for Stoppable-san," Sensei continued heatedly, "is both foolish and dangerous. His possession of the Power is just and in accordance with Prophecy." Sensei paused and then admonished in a frightening voice, "Lord Fiske, too, once thought of Stoppable-san as a 'Pretender.' Do not forget that, Yabuki-san."

"Yes, Sensei."

In the tense silence that followed this exchange, Kim tried not to think back on her best friend and Monkey Fist. Unfortunately, her thoughts orbited instead around Ron's current "trip" and what _its_ dreadful objective might be. The unthinkable, yet probable, nature of his "trips" was far more frightening for Kim than anything she had witnessed in the secret chamber.

"Forgive my thoughtlessness, Sensei," Hirotaka said finally, "but surely Lord Fisk did not possess the power of the Mandrill." Although these words were spoken with deference, it was deference with an edge to it.

"If the Mandrill possessed _sixty_ eyes," Sensei replied dismissively, "their combined strength would not be enough to defeat the Chosen One." Without waiting for his underling to utter another objection, the old man brought the discussion back to its original subject. "Rufus-san's passing has shaken the Chosen One's loyalty to the Honorable Yamanouchi School. We are upon a dangerous bend in the path. As dangerous as when he asked for leave in the days following," and here Sensei paused a few seconds, "the tragedy."

Perhaps it was how the ninja shifted his weight ever so slightly from one foot to the other or in how he changed the pattern of his breathing by only the slightest of observable degrees, but, to Kim, Hirotaka's silence to this last pronouncement seemed to reverberate against the chamber's walls.

"A Kappa Warrior is tracking his movements as you requested, Sensei," the ninja, still bowed, said, breaking this interminable silence.

_So that's what you call the 'dirty dozen,' huh?_

"Good." Sensei nodded, but he seemed distracted.

"The Warrior will make sure the Chosen One returns successfully," Hirotaka spoke unbidden, standing erect once again. "Once that happens, his loyalty should no longer be a concern."

Not just the words but also the sudden tone change in his voice as he spoke them blew a chill through Kim's chest.

Sensei closed his eyes and shook his head. "You still do not comprehend, Yabuki-san."

"Sensei," Hirotaka said, his eyes aimed at the floor, "we do not need to fear the Prophecy."

_Prophecy?_

As his master continued to shake his head in disapproval, the ninja's voice rose, "Once we possess the idol's head, we need not fear _any_ prophecy ever again."

Kim scanned the top tier of the arena for the headless figure she had seen earlier.

"Hirotaka," Sensei sighed. His voice sounded tired, old. "Although your niece is not the Lotus Child, she is still the Chosen One's heir. That is _still_ important. The Semia can _not_ change _that_. Even if one can undo tomorrow and recast yesterday, one cannot rewrite prophecy."

Kim's mind fumbled as it tried to come to grips with all that had just been revealed to her. Her attempts to decode the meanings of "Lotus Child," "The Semia," and the relevance of Sensei's strange aphorism were overwhelmed by the bombshell that Hirotaka was Mariko's uncle.

_Yori was his sister?! Of course! Why didn't I see that before?_

"Sensei," Hirotaka said with a fixed stare, "I honorably request-"

"Enough!" shouted the old man. He paused to clear his throat. However, the clearing soon evolved into a nasty cough. He regained his voice within a moment.

"Without the Blade," Sensei pronounced, "none of _this,_ " he gestured to the immense chamber with a sweep of his right arm, "has meaning!" As his arm arced over the attendant idols, something shot out from his sleeve and bounced toward Kim. She easily dodged it, but when she turned to see what the small tumbling projectile might have been, it had already fallen among the shadows beneath the lip of the dais.

"Without the Chosen One," Sensei continued in a slightly calmer voice, "the ultimate triumph of Honor cannot be achieved. It would be like invoking the spirits of the Mandrill with only five of its eyes."

To this last statement, Hirotaka begrudgingly nodded assent.

"Once the loyalty of the Chosen One and his heir are assured, and, only then, will Honor recast yesterday, dictate tomorrow, and compose today." After he said this, Sensei turned in Kim's direction and then, raising his weak and watery eyes to the expanse of dull void above and behind her, he spoke, "Perhaps ... perhaps then Honor will even hold sway over Death." His eyes glazed over and, through his whiskers, his lips curled into an insufferable smile.

The look of triumph did not last; it crumbled as the old man coughed roughly into his hand.

This last pronouncement didn't even deserve an "as if."

In her second life, Kim had come to be certain of only two things: the love she still had the power to feel and the ultimate, incontestable sovereignty of Death.

All the scientific knowledge of her father, her brothers, and Wade, all the medical training of her mother, even the mad science of Drakken and Dementor, and, certainly, the mystical parlor tricks of this old man could never hope to assail or even to define It. You could not trump It. At the bottom of everything that anyone anywhere had ever said or did or would ever say or do was the silent, depthless truth that Death held all the cards.

III.

"And how shall Stoppable-san's loyalty be 'assured'?" Hirotaka asked tightly.

"That will be decided very soon," Sensei said with an absent wave of his hand. "I am weary, Yabuki-san. I wish to sleep."

The ninja, with the slightest perceptible hint of irritation, stepped aside to let his master pass.

Kim coldly watched Hirotaka take up position behind Sensei. As she made to follow them, flashes of jade drew her attention to the shadows crowding the center of the dais. The string of lustrous points of light seemed to vary their brightness as she altered her gaze. They seemed arranged into a chain pattern almost as if they made up a necklace. She stood over them, but still couldn't make them out clearly. She kneeled down.

_You have so got to be kidding me!_

Kim's eyes darted to the edge of the dais where the small object had bounced from within Sensei's robe. She leapt over the side and then crouched down until she found it: a piece of chocolate encased in green foil.

"You are _**unbelievably**_ so the jerk!" She screamed at the old man's gradually receding figure. When he had been making that mysterious gesture while "meditating," Sensei had actually been eating Mariko's candy.

In a fury, Kim raced across the distance that separated her from Sensei and his confederate. She reached them just before they got to the side wall.

"And the child, Sensei?" Hirotaka asked suddenly.

The old man's back stiffened, and then he muttered something Kim couldn't make out.

"But Sensei," Hirotaka asked with an edge in his voice, "she is only five. Her Initiation is _years_ away. Can we afford to wait that long?"

The old man jerked his head around and said in a grim, taciturn voice, "All will be decided in due time, Yabuki-san."

The word "Initiation" hung in the air. Kim did not know what it referred to; she only knew that it wouldn't go away. It was still there in her mind when the portal opened loudly before Sensei and Hirotaka. The word didn't fade when she noticed the piece of green foil stuck in the tangles of Sensei's beard. And it was still there when the pear-shaped master and his assassin exited the chamber.

She found herself following them automatically through the portal. Then she stopped.

_Waitaminute ... do I really want to do this?_

Since the night they had returned from Middleton, Kim had been trying to infiltrate the Keep. That was where this portal almost certainly led. All she had to do was walk six more steps, and she would finally be inside. But that reality posed a problem she had not considered until this moment: How was she going to leave?

True, she could shadow Hirotaka or Sensei. Once she made the decision as to which one to trail, she could, in addition to learning any other secrets they might let slip, follow them whenever they went outside. But what if she got separated from them? She had no idea how many chambers and levels the immense fortress might have. It wasn't very likely, but what if she somehow got closed up in a room and couldn't leave for a very long time or ... at least ... until she blacked out again?

_And then what about Mariko?_

The last time she blacked out she had been gone for "weeks and weeks." Kim knew it was very possible that the little girl's training had seriously deteriorated in that time. And how long was Ron's mission going to last? Just a night, days? The thought of her friend being unprotected for an extended period of time chained itself to the dread the word "Initiation" had thrown over Kim's consciousness. She thought back to the candy foil in Sensei's beard and the little girl he had stolen it from.

_No. It won't be tonight._

Kim watched the door close and was plunged in the brief, but complete, darkness of the coliseum.

IV.

She started running back across the floor of the amphitheater even before her eyes adjusted to the dark. Her vision crystallized as she reached the raised dais. She raced across the platform, launched herself from its lip into the dark sea of dormant idols, and then hop-scotched across their various foreheads until she reached the back wall. Once there, she leapt among the shoulders of the taller statues in the back row, trying to locate the entrance to the tunnel.

She found it in less than thirty seconds. Jumping from a spear held by a polynesian-accented simian totem, Kim landed against the wall a yard or two short of the mark. Ignoring the sharp, brief pains that the collision caused to radiate along her legs and arms, she clutched to the miniscule outcroppings on the wall's surface, scaled it, and dove through the narrow opening in less than a handful of breaths. Kim would have recognized that she was once again moving with the quicksilver actions and reflexes characteristic of being in the "zone" if her mind wasn't already three or four steps ahead of her body.

And her mind was certainly _not_ in a groove; her thoughts were stumbling over each other.

She crawled and then sprinted down the length of the tunnel and out into the night air only half-realizing what she was doing. She scrambled, unseeing, over the recessed dome of the "monkey's skull" carved deep into the cliff. In fact, her thoughts were so preoccupied that she was only ten feet from the top of the cliff before she noticed that it was no longer raining.

Once she made it to the top, she fell on her back and allowed herself a brief break to catch her breath. Absently, she noticed the quarter moon directly overhead. It was being shepherded by a handful of stars as it crested a break in the clouds. The edges of Kim's mind began to relapse into memory, a memory of the brilliant moon she had seen framed in Mariko's window the night before they left for Middleton. It hadn't been more than a month since that night-and even a shorter period for her, but it seemed so, so very far away. Like the distance between herself and those stars.

"Head in the game, Possible!" She snapped bitterly, climbed quickly to her feet, and charged toward the dimly lit grounds of the school.

When she crossed the tiny courtyard to Ron and Mariko's dwelling, she released a tension-filled sigh-there were no simurians waiting outside.

_Why would there be? Since Mariko isn't magic, they don't care anymore._

However, this relief was soon overcome by frustration. The window was shut fast.

Angrily, Kim ran back through the courtyard, exited the building, and then charged around to its rear. Her frustration only increased when she realized she wasn't one hundred percent sure which shuttered window belonged to the little girl. She narrowed it down to two and began ascending the wall at a spot directly between them.

Although she could leverage herself against any edge however slight, finding "grappling points" on the dormitory's wall was difficult. Unlike those of the underground chamber or the spiked Keep, these walls were virtually flat. Kim was losing her cool and began muttering under her breath as she struggled to climb the ten to fifteen foot distance.

Her dark mood immediately broke, if temporarily, when she made out deep snores coming from the window on the left. She inched across the wall until she was just beneath it. Fortunately, moving horizontally along the wall proved to be far easier.

She rapped on the bottom edge of the closed shutter.

Mariko's snores didn't miss a beat.

"Mariko …" she whispered.

The little girl snored on.

"Sweetheart," Kim called out.

The snoring stopped. And then a moment later started again.

"Mariko!" Kim cried out loudly. The harsh edge in her voice surprised her as it echoed within her head.

"Huh? Wha-?" a small, discombobulated voice, struggling against sleep, said from within.

_Great going, Possible, just great._

"Sweetheart," Kim called in a much gentler voice. "It's me, Rufina. Can you let me in?"

The sound of small feet pattering toward the window sent a warm sensation along Kim's back-part elation, part relief, part shame. By the time Mariko had lifted the shutter high enough for her to make out her tangled hair against the dull grey air of the room, Kim was wearing the broadest, least forced-looking smile she could manage under the circumstances.

"Do you want to play, Sweetheart?" she asked in a chipper, yet slightly brittle, voice.

Mariko didn't say anything at first.

Then Kim saw the girl's dark outline nod its head.

"O..okay."

V.

"No, no, sweetheart," Kim said, "Hold your hand palm down, like this, see?"

"Okay," Mariko looked up at her friend, "I'm sorry." She bit her lower lip, trying not to frown.

Kim was trying her best not to let her agitation show. Mariko certainly hadn't forgotten _everything_ Kim had taught her, but she was making mistakes, and the easy flow the little girl had demonstrated on earlier nights was seriously lacking. If she had been frustrated before reuniting with her friend, Kim was doubly so now. She had been intent on teaching the little girl additional, more advanced moves, and now she had to put those on hold to double-back and practically re-teach some of the more basic ones.

" _No_ , Mariko," Kim said, dropping out of her stance and covering her face with both hands after yet another misstep by her student, "you keep your arm _straight_ and your hand balled into a _fist_."

"I-I forgot, I'm sorry, Rufina."

The little girl's small, broken voice cut right into Kim and emptied her chest.

"No, sweetie," Kim sniffled, slowly dropping her hands from her face, " _I'm_ the one who's sorry."

"Huh?"

"This isn't any fun, is it?"

Mariko hesitated as if she didn't know what to say. Or as if she didn't want to hurt Kim's feelings. Finally, she slowly nodded her head.

"I'm letting my natural Kimness get the better of me again," Kim said with the beginnings of a smile.

Mariko relaxed when she saw the smile and tried to mirror it. "Wh-what is that, Rufina?"

After a tension-releasing sigh, Kim explained, "Something your daddy came up with when we were growing up." She sat upon the floor lotus style and patted her right knee.

The little girl walked gingerly over to her friend, sat down as instructed and leaned her head against Kim's shoulder.

"My natural Kimness was when I got too competitive ... too crazy about something, when I wanted to be the best at something so much that I made everyone, including myself, miserable."

"Not you, Rufina," Mariko, alarmed, said turning to look Kim in the eyes. " _You_ wouldn't do that!?"

Kim smiled, "I just did, Sweetheart. To you."

Mariko didn't say anything for a while, just stared. Finally, she frowned and nodded her head.

Then Kim launched into a story.

In a hurried, happy-sounding voice she began, "A few years ago-well, I guess, nine or maybe ten years ago now, I was coaching my little brothers' soccer team because my daddy, who was originally their coach, couldn't because he got hurt, and I went so overboard and wanted so badly to achieve and to win that I actually thought about pretending that _I_ was a little kid, too, so I could play on the team!"

Mariko didn't mirror the smile on Kim's face. Or ask her to go on. She just continued to stare. Kim watched the little girl's eyes wander over her in the dark.

_Please, say something._

Finally, Mariko did; she asked a question.

"What's the matter, Rufina?"

Kim knew she shouldn't-that she _wouldn't,_ lie about this. But if her answer wasn't "Nothing," what answer could she give? There was so much she still didn't know herself. What if she said too much? What if she said too little?

_Sensei … Mandrill … Semia … Prophecy … Lotus Child … Betrayal … Hiro-_

"Hirotaka," Kim said firmly.

"Yabuki-san?" Mariko asked, puzzled.

Kim closed her eyes, and then opened them again. "He is spying on your daddy, Sweetheart."

"Wh-what?"

Kim nodded and bit her lower lip. "Yes. Your daddy is being followed on his trip tonight."

"Why?" Mariko got out of Kim's lap and then edged away from her friend's automatically outstretching arms.

"I don't know, Mariko," Kim tried to say calmly as she got to her knees. "When your father left tonight, I thought I saw something … something when he opened the door…"

Mariko was nervously pacing around the room now. Kim might have remarked upon the little girl's Ronnish method for dealing with anxiety if the sight had not broken her heart. "Th-that's why," she continued, her voice struggling to maintain control, "I wanted you to let me out the window so quickly …"

"Why does he want to hurt my daddy?" Mariko cried.

Kim shot a look to the closed door of the cell and then quickly placed her right arm about the child's trembling shoulders and placed her left fingertips upon her lips. She gathered Mariko into a hug.

The little girl didn't pull away, nor did she cry out. She merely stood still, impossibly still, in Kim's embrace. After an unbearable minute, Kim gently released the girl and looked at her face.

The little girl's eyes were clinched shut.

However, Mariko spoke before Kim could. "Does … does Yabuki-san want to hurt my daddy," and, right here, tears began leaking between her tensing eyelids, "be-because he hates _me_?"

"No!" Kim cried, "No, Sweetheart, no!"

Mariko gently hushed Kim with her fingertips and then she, too, briefly turned to look at the still closed door of her room.

Kim smiled weakly at Mariko's shushing her and then urgently whispered, "Sweetie, it is _not_ because of you! Don't ever think that, ever! Besides, I never said that Yabuki-san wanted to hurt your daddy!"

"He doesn't?" Mariko said almost breaking out of her whisper.

"I don't know," Kim admitted, "but I don't think so. But I _do_ know he is spying on your daddy. I don't know if he wants to hurt him, but he doesn't like him and he doesn't want good things to happen to either of you."

Mariko still looked very worried, but she was no longer hysterical. She chewed her bottom lip, wiped both of her cheeks with the back of her right hand and then asked the question that had been troubling Kim ever since they returned to the school.

"What can we do?"

_I can't tell her that I don't know. That answer isn't going to wash anymore. For me, for her, or for Ron._

Then she had their answer.

"Tell your daddy."

Mariko nodded. "Yeah."

"We need to tell your daddy about this as soon as he comes home. The minute he walks in the door."

"Even if Yabuki-san is with him?" Mariko asked, already beginning to shake her head.

"No," Kim said, mirroring her friend's head shake with a small smile. Then the smile vanished. "But as soon as we're alone with him, we've got to tell him."

Mariko nodded firmly, looked deeply into Kim's eyes, and squeezed her friend's right hand in both of hers.

After a moment, Kim broke away from the child's stare. "Mariko," she began and sighed, "this ... this game we've been playing ... well, it's more than just something fun to do." She looked back into the girl's unblinking eyes, "It's also a way to protect yourself ... to protect other people, too."

"Protect ... daddy?" Mariko asked hopefully with a rise in her voice.

Kim placed her fingers against the child's lips again. "Yes, maybe."

"I thought so," Mariko nodded.

"You did?" Kim whispered, surprised.

"Uh, huh," Mariko smiled, "the older kids in school are learning taijutsu. I watched Rina practice with the instructor on Thursday, and it looked like our game ... but ... but really different, too."

Kim shot a quick look to the closed door. "Did you tell Rina about our game?"

Mariko shook her head and whispered, "She doesn't like me talking about you."

"I'm sorry about being mean earlier, Mariko," Kim whispered, squeezing the little girl's hands that were still wrapped about her right wrist. "I should have told you what was bothering me right from the beginning."

"No big." Mariko smiled. After a moment she asked, "Can we ... can we still play?"

"You want to?"

Mariko nodded vigorously. "I want to protect my daddy."

Kim smiled.

A moment later she held out her fist. Mariko gave it a playful, yet firm, knock with hers.

VI.

Almost immediately after Kim and Mariko started "playing" again, rain began driving across the school grounds, and then the moonlight that had been ebbing through the window suddenly vanished. Mariko lowered the shutter to keep out the wet.

As they waited for their eyes to adjust to the unlit room, the little girl held onto Kim's hand and rested her head against her hip. Kim could feel the beats of the child's pulse against the back of her hand. Her pulse slowed down, then increased, and finally became steady.

_What are you thinking?_

"Ready, Sweetheart?" she asked.

Mariko squeezed Kim's wrist. "Yeah."

When she had first decided to teach Ron's daughter kung fu, Kim had planned on a fairly systematic regimen. She would lead Mariko through all the styles she knew, more or less, in order. She had not anticipated being able to teach all sixteen, of course; she certainly _hoped_ Mariko and Ron wouldn't be staying at Yamanouchi long enough for her to accomplish that. However, it made sense to move from the simplest to the most complex styles.

However, Kim now realized how flawed her reasoning had been. Not only did it place their "games" in too conservative a framework, it also played right into her natural Kimness. As she had been racing back to the dwelling, she had been going over the moves Mariko already had down, the techniques that still needed work, and those that Kim wanted to introduce so Mariko could have a working knowledge of them before the night was over. In other words, a laundry list of goals modeled for _Kim's_ m.o., not for a little girl who saw it all as a game. And certainly not modeled for _Ron Stoppable's_ little girl.

Once Kim began treating it as a game again, Mariko, almost instantaneously, began to respond as successfully as she had in their earlier sessions. What's more, Kim realized that some of the more complex styles utilized certain moves that were simple and could easily be incorporated into what her friend already knew. Part of her cringed at this type of "mix and matching," however, there was no arguing against the grin upon the child's face-a grin that complemented the determined look in her eyes.

Ironically, some of the newer "tricks" that Mariko mastered after only two or three attempts were the rudimentary techniques that formed the basis for Mantis kung fu. This had been the style of martial arts that her uncle had shown off to Kim back in sophomore year. When Kim reflected upon Mariko's proficiency, however, it didn't seem all that strange. Mantis was, to a large extent, just a fancy version of "Keep-away."

"Whoa!" Kim exclaimed as she landed painfully on her rear. Mariko had so effectively avoided her sudden advance that the teen had found herself struggling to regain her balance. She had lost the struggle.

"I'm so sorry!" Mariko said, rushing to her side. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Kim said, rubbing the sore spot. As with most of her "injuries," this one's pain quickly subsided. However, the concern she saw reflected in the little girl's eyes ignited a memory so potent that Kim had to choke back a giggle.

On the second or third day of pre-K, Ron had been trying to give Kim a push on the swing-set. However, a slight timing miscalculation resulted in Kim being pushed _out_ of the swing and landing in a small cloud of dust on her bottom. Before she could even stand up and explain to him that she was okay, Ron was apologizing profusely and earnestly ... and then trying to kiss her "hurt" away.

_No, I think I'll wait and tell that story later._

To Mariko's perplexed look, Kim explained that what the little girl had done was exactly what she _should_ have done, and that they should practice it a few more times.

The second time she ended on her rear, Kim gave Mariko a thumbs up.

The third time, Kim playfully stuck out her tongue.

By this time, the even drumming of the rain had gradually become the steady pounding of a downpour. And then the wind joined the onslaught with harsh, irregular gusts.

_Is this place like the epicenter for the world's worst weather or what?_

In addition to muffling the sound in the room, the constant background noise also made it difficult for Kim to keep track of the time. It wasn't until Mariko leaned against the wall to rest for a few moments and then promptly fell fast asleep that Kim realized that they had been "playing" for a very long time indeed.

"Mariko? Mariko?" Kim said touching her friend's shoulder as the little girl slowly slid down the wall.

_If you can sleep through this racket ..._

"Huh?" The little girl strained to open two very blurry, red-rimmed eyes.

"I think you should probably go to sleep now, sweetie."

Mariko managed a half-nod, and then closed her eyes again. Kim was about to prompt her again when the girl suddenly pushed herself off the wall and into a standing position. Then, with eyes still closed, she walked toward the center of the room, where her mat lay. As Kim reached out to guide her, something in Mariko's somnambulant trek struck her as so Ronnish that she decided against it and merely followed a few steps behind.

Just as the little girl safely lowered herself down upon her sleeping mat, the hair on the base of Kim's neck suddenly prickled. She looked toward the window.

Whispers were leaking into the little girl's room. Flowing between the layers of cacophony from the storm outside, the dark sounds were entering the cell around the edges of the window. Instead of rising to the ceiling and gradually settling over everything like a wispy shroud, they spilled out across the surface of the floor, filling the room like poisonous waters.

Immediately, Kim dropped to floor next to Mariko, and placed her hand upon the child's forehead. Even if Ron had been home, snoring in the next room, there was no way she was going to leave the little girl's side. She didn't know what was going to happen, if anything, but if it did, she was going to be right there.

Then Kim heard another sound. A sound quite close by ... the sound of the cell's door being slid open ... or closed.

She turned her head in the direction of the noise and found herself staring at a wall in _another_ cell.

VII.

The weather of hell swirled about her.

The very air seemed to assault Kim. Both her throat and eyes burned. Her eyes reflexively shut, and she gagged for a few painful moments. As she covered her mouth and wiped her eyes clear, Kim realized that the oppressive humidity was cloaked in the same mold-infused stench she had encountered at the rear of the coliseum. Only it was much, much worse.

And then there were the sounds.

The deafening strength and density of noise was overwhelming. Once the agony around her eyes and mouth became bearable, Kim's hands shot to her ears.

She _knew_ she was hearing the source of the whispers.

From Mariko's cell, they had been low, almost soothing, and seemed to be of a single androgynous voice. Here, however, they were made up of several disparate voices, male and female, and they were _not_ whispering. They were screeching, wailing, chattering.

Kim raised her head from the floor. Blinking her running eyes until her vision cleared, she made out a small, shuttered window on the upper two-thirds of the wall she was facing. This sight, coupled with the throbbing shade of vermilion that enveloped everything, confirmed that she was in the pagoda's spire.

Kim took a brief, closed-mouth breath, steeled herself, and then slowly turned to face the source of her tortures.

The small room was swallowed by the idol's immensity. Rolling, evanescing steam billowed from every inch of its olive-grey surface. The regal posture of the statue's figure was belied by the crooked grimace that spread across its dingy ivory teeth and by its cavernous mold-etched nostrils. Ridged cerulean stripes edged the bridge of the visage's hideous cochineal nose.

A tremor of shock passed over her quickly. And then Kim Possible aimed a fixed, dauntless stare into the six eyes of the Mandrill.

* * *

_To be continued ..._

**A/N:** A couple of phrases (but, more importantly, the mood) in the first and last sections were inspired by Mark Strand's apocalyptic poem "The Way It Is."


	19. Eighteen

I.

Kim had been prepared to look upon a grotesquely-mutated idol with six individual eye sockets. However, the simian totem was sufficiently repulsive with just two.

Each vast orbit held three vermilion jewels arranged in a tight cluster. Much like those in the large cavern beneath the campus, this idol's eyes beat with an irregular rhythm. Although this was bad enough, the most truly annoying aspect of the Eyes of the Mandrill were that their pulses were asynchronic—the eyes did _not_ pulse at the same time.

After only a handful of seconds, Kim had to break her stare and look away. The statue's gaze was giving her a headache. She continued her closed-mouth breathing and tried to mentally slow the painful racing of her temples. As she did so, she noticed an even drumming beneath the painful cacophony emanating from the Mandrill. Shielding her eyes, Kim squinted in the direction of this sound. An open shutter took up most of the left wall of the room; through it, a steady rain was drenching the back of the statue.

Briefly, Kim entertained the possibility that her most recent black-out had been instantaneous, and that this was the same night as when she had left Mariko's side. However, she quickly realized that given Yamanouchi's normal weather, it guaranteed nothing that it was raining as fiercely now as it had been outside the little girl's cell "minutes ago."

As Kim turned back to the statue, she noticed it was sitting upon an irregularly shaped slab of black stone, not more than an inch thick. For a few minutes she languidly watched the sheets of steam surge across its surface and tried to center her thoughts. Through the diaphanous vapors, something about the idol's surface drew her attention.

_Wait …whatwasthat?_

She blinked her eyes against the astringent waves of heat that continued to curl through the cramped chamber's air. Edging up on her knees, Kim leaned forward. For a second, it looked almost like … like the surface of the statue was … _moving_.

It was very difficult to tell what the idol was made of exactly. Her first glance told her it was had been chiseled from some type of obsidian stone. Now, however, it looked composed of a dark wood. But … she wasn't sure of _that_ observation two seconds after she made it.

_What … what is it?_

Kim was almost convinced it was composed of some odd myrtle-tinged alloy when the idol's skin flexed.

_Oh my God._

The ripple began on the ape's left forearm, traveled up the length of its shoulder and then branched across its lower forehead and spread through the complex knots of muscles that made up its face.

Reflexively, Kim tilted away from the hideous, throbbing visage as the memory of the samurian on the dark mountaintop as it had erupted to life shot across her consciousness. For what seemed a very long time, she remained completely still, braced for the hulking figure to shift position and begin lumbering about the chamber.

However, despite the multiple life-like pulsations along its steaming surface, the Mandrill remained rooted in place and as inert as any statue.

"What is this thing?" Kim asked no one. She quickly regretted vocalizing this request as she gagged on the acidic fumes that swirled in the air. She shook her head and resumed breathing through her bared teeth.

Then she remembered the secret Ron had told Mariko back in the onsen weeks earlier. He had been injured fighting "super ugly" monkeys. Eyeing the blood-red bridge of the statue's nose, Kim couldn't help wondering if that trip, if those simians he had fought, had anything to do with the hideous idol she was now confronting. As she leaned closer to the statue, the side of her left hand brushed against an edge of its platform.

The pain surged through her hand with the fierce intensity of bitter cold. In fact, the words that initially burst through Kim's mind were "frost bite." However, the sight and, ugh, the smell of her hand quickly conveyed that her skin had undergone the very opposite trauma. Just as Kim was marveling, with the detachment of someone in shock, that she had not screamed, she realized that she _was_ screaming, very loudly.

A pleasant salving sensation throbbed and then rapidly rushed along the side of her hand as her burnt skin, as so many of her other injuries had, began to heal as if it had never been damaged.

However, the void within her that had been violently carved out by the intense heat of the statue's dais filled back in with despair, not relief. Her miraculous recovery only underscored her utter helplessness. Kim was trapped in a limbo state where she could do nothing, nothing except feel pain.

As her hand became whole once more, she cursed under her breath. It was obvious: there was nothing she could do to save her friends. Her urging for Mariko to tell Ron about Hirotaka was laughable. Even if Ron knew that his honorable school was spying on him, how was that going to help him defeat invisible samurais, the Semia (whateveritwas that _it_ did), or the shrieking six-eyed freak that smoldered the air in this tower?

And, of course, there was there was something more to dread. Although Ron and Mariko's safety was paramount in her mind, Kim could not deny that all she had witnessed in the underground chamber and in this hellish spire suggested that things were reaching a world crises pitch. If something wasn't done soon, it was possible that everyone- _everyone_ -was in danger.

She stood and tried to make her way to the window. Although it didn't hurt any longer, she was still cradling her once-burned hand in her right arm. Of course, this was because she didn't realize she was still holding it. In fact, Kim only had the vaguest notions of what she was doing. On the handful of occasions in her first lifetime when she had felt utterly hopeless, as if she couldn't accomplish _anything_ , Kim Possible had been overcome by a hazy numbness that clouded not only her judgment but even her sense of herself. Up until this night, there had always been a certain person present, either in body or spirit, to lead her back. In this cell at the top of this tower, there was no one. Only herself.

"Aaarrrrrrrrrgh! Stopit! Stop it!" Kim clenched her fists as she yelled. A fit of painful coughing overtook her; yet her thoughts remained sharp, determined.

_You are not giving up, Kim! There has to be a way-a way to stop all this! And you're going to find it._

Still bleary-eyed from the room's pestilent-laden air, Kim confidently strode the final few feet to the chamber's open window.

As she placed her foot upon the frame, her way was suddenly blocked by her killer's brother.

II.

Ironically, it was by utilizing one of the basic moves of Mantis Kung Fu that Kim managed to avoid a collision with Hirotaka. This was most certainly the last room she would have wanted to be sent ricocheting around. Standing flat against the wall to the right of the window, she watched with rising disgust as the assassin breezed through the opening, walked gracefully across the chamber's floor, and then kneeled before the demonic visage.

After holding his bow for over a minute, a bow that Kim noticed held an air of deference that had been lacking in his bows before Sensei, Hirotaka swiftly and smoothly repositioned himself in a full lotus sitting position mere inches from the idol's simmering platform. His eyes closed and his mouth drawn taunt, the ninja inhaled deeply. Then he took a second, even deeper breath.

Watching him made Kim's lungs hurt. The fumes in that room were unbearable, yet he seemed intent on drawing as much of the air as possible into his body.

After an interminable period of time, he released the toxins from his lungs. His mouth remained shut, and an orange-tinged mist flowed from both nostrils. As these streams of putrid breath faded into the waves of stream pouring from the idol, Hirotaka's crimson eyes snapped open.

_Gross!_

Not only did his pupils match the color of the idol's repugnant nose, the whites did as well. In fact, the color was so uniform, so deep that it appeared that pupils and whites had blended or merged into one. The shade was so full that for a second Kim thought it would overflow and run, like tears, down the ninja's cheeks.

"The Lotus Blossoms are falling." The unaffected clarity with which these words were spoken was even more disturbing than their suddenness. However, the tiny smirk that formed in the corner of Hirotaka's mouth after they had passed his lips proved to be the most unsettling thing for Kim.

He shut his eyes and took another deep breath of the idol's incense as it swirled about him.

Although they looked nothing alike and the young assassin's suave demeanor contained nothing of the older man's twisted, mutated bearing, Kim was most definitely getting a Lord Montgomery Fisk vibe from Hirotaka at that moment.

After expelling his second breath and opening his eyes once more, the ninja pronounced, with a hint of menace, "If the old refuses to die, the new cannot be born."

Kim wondered what the source of these cryptic utterances might be. Could Hirotaka decode the continuous wailings and mutterings from the Mandrill? Was he, like some ancient oracle, using the vapors to "see" into another dimension, another time? Or a third possibility?

_Yeah, maybe he's just flat-out insane._

The deep crimson in his eyes was pooling and looked as if it was threatening to cascade over the edges of his lower eyelids.

_Oh my God._

As thick as oil, red tears dribbled down his face. Hirotaka shut his eyes and inhaled once more. When he opened them, the streams of liquid flowing from each was so numerous that they crisscrossed both cheeks like tattered spider webs.

The smirk upon his lips was edged like the head of a dart, and his voice was unforgiving. Final.

"The Lotus shall fall before the Ages of the Mandrill."

III.

As she skidded down the pagodah's slanted, rain-slick roof, Kim's mind was racing ahead of her next move, at least two yards ahead from the spot where she currently was. Anticipating the moment when her feet would be touching the ground, so she could charge off at top speed for her friend's room. Her thoughts were careening in seven different directions, so she didn't hear them at first.

"Poc." "Poc." "Poc."

Mere feet from the bottom edge of the roof, a small piece of ice bounced between Kim's feet.

_Shoot!_

She immediately took the ten foot drop to the ground, landed in a squat, and then back-flipped beneath the protection of the overhanging roof eave as the hail tumbled from the pitch sky in earnest. As the pellets bounced upon the ground and rolled toward her, she inched up upon her toes and tried to squeeze herself as flat against the wall as she could. The clanging of the hundreds of stones upon the metal roof was almost as loud as the racket emanating from the stupid idol had been. The torrents of hail just kept coming and coming, and she found herself hopping out of the path of stones rolling and glancing at her from all angles.

Eyeing the roof's wooden supports, Kim clambered up narrow crevices in the temple's wall until she could reach the beams. Gripping them, Kim alternated between letting her body hang and supporting her weight with her legs planted firmly against the wall. As she caught her breath in this damp alcove of safety and listened to the rolling of the hailstones overhead, Kim futilely attempted to calm her frenzied pulse.

After his third pronouncement, Hirotaka had come out of his trance. His eyes flashed back to their normal dull color, and the patchwork of "blood trails" had faded from the sides of his face. He stood, bowed deeply to his idol, and left the chamber without further sound or gesture.

However, the words he had spoken "in communion" with the Mandrill had reverberated menacingly within Kim's chest. Twenty-minutes later, adjusting her grip upon the wooden beams beneath a thundering hailstorm, Kim found they had finally settled down to fine, cold point. However, the chill from this point was growing in intensity and radiating outward.

Although there was no way she could be sure of the meanings to his ominous statements, they were clearly insane and their implications were irrefutably dangerous. And the more she thought about them, the more the coldness in her chest spread and grew more certain.

Sensei's authority, prophecy, and the Lotus Blade were meaningless next to the words of the assassin. Yori's brother was intent upon his own path.

Hirotaka planned to remove Sensei and the Chosen One. He was going to try to murder Ron,

Kim's sobs were muffled from her own ears by the poundings of the storm. The futility of all she had done while at Yamanouchi and the utter hopelessness that swam through her seemed to weigh her down, to drag her closer to the earth. More than once the violent tremors along her arms almost caused her to lose her hold upon the supports.

The hail storm abated. As Kim tentatively relaxed the muscles in her arms and then gently allowed her body to drop to the ground, she heard the last handful of stones strike and roll across the roof. Their sound melted into the constant churning of her thoughts and then, quite suddenly, Kim recalled the last hailstorm she had ever been in.

There was only one answer.

IV.

Kim tore through the still-dripping woods so quickly that she only noticed the approaching dawn when the light piercing through the eastern trees momentarily blinded her. As she waited for her bleary eyes to clear, Kim heard the distinct sound of thunder in the far distance. And then she caught a vague smell of burning that seemed to be coming from the same direction. Perhaps a fire in the valley caused by the lightning, she thought haphazardly, but then she couldn't recall hearing any thunder until that very moment.

The morning was not welcoming and did nothing to ease her frenzied mood.

Like a stain or a bruise, an orange-tinted haze was spread across the eastern horizon of the morning sky while receding black clouds and the remnants of night still cloaked most of the school. As she broke past the edge of trees, Kim half-noticed many freshly-torn branches and scattered twigs that attested to the violence of the storm. The air seemed flat and heavy; not a single bird sang.

_How do I begin? How can I explain everything without scaring her? What do I say?_

Kim was still brooding upon the emotional fallout of her decision as she ran across the blossom and limb-strewn courtyard toward her friends' "dorm" when she caught a snatch of the little girl's voice coming from over her shoulder. She reflexively turned her head in the direction of Mariko's words.

Considering her limited traction, running across a littered field of wet grass was a difficult balancing act for Kim to accomplish in the first place. Changing direction on a second's notice was, therefore, nearly impossible. This was especially true when the sudden, skidding inertia of an abrupt halt converged against violent contact with a downed tree limb.

When she finally came to rest against the outer wall of Mariko and Ron's building, Kim held her head tightly for a few moments and tried not to get sick. She cursed and grumbled as she impatiently waited for the pain and, more importantly, the vertigo to dissipate enough for her to stand. The last thing she had seen before spiraling out of control had been Rina and Mariko, both dressed in their school uniforms. The older girl had been leading her friend into a darkened passageway near the rear of the opposite building wall.

Kim wavered dangerously for the first ten feet or so, but she quickly regained her balance and confidently made it to the shadow-draped entranceway in only a handful of, what felt to be, excruciatingly long seconds. The bare passage extended the width of the building; the morning's sickly orange light flickered at its far end.

"Mariko!"

The desperation that her voice echoed along the tunnel's walls jolted Kim. She shook her head and jogged down the hallway.

A third of the way in, Kim faintly heard a dark tangle of voices coming from somewhere deep within the building. Since it was outwardly identical to Mariko and Ron's building, Kim had understandably assumed that its interior would be a mirror image as well. This was not the case.

An immense, arched entranceway opened on her right, revealing a broad two-story corridor segmented by a row of stone columns that effectively divided the area into two. The columns, towering to an oddly designed roof, scattered murky shadows upon practically every surface at ground level. High above, small rectangular apertures between the columns broke up the roof, creating a series of de facto skylights. Although the weak light on this hazy morning did not take full advantage of these openings, it was fair to assume that a brilliant day might make the massive hallway seem more pleasant and not so much like a tunnel.

Kim hesitantly stepped through the archway and then to the left of the first column. The voices were receding and becoming fainter, but they were definitely emanating from somewhere up ahead. Either wall of the corridor seemed made up of compartments not dissimilar from her friends' "home." There was a slight difference, however. Whereas Ron and Mariko's dwelling possessed a door and only one window, these compartments could boast of two sets of windows. The shades on all these windows were drawn low if not completely shut. Located midway down each wall was a narrow, shadowy staircase that led, she supposed, to the second floor.

She heard a voice-not Mariko's-but a human sound nevertheless coming from a window two rooms down on the right. She crossed between a pair of columns and was suddenly met with complete, utter silence. It wasn't as if the voice or the vague sounds further down the hall had slowly faded away; rather, it was as if they had been switched off. The change had come so abruptly that Kim became overly-sensitive to the sound of her own breathing. However, she pressed on until she reached the window from whence she believed the voice had come. She bent down and listened to the crack in the shutter. Nothing. Not a whisper.

She had made the obvious conclusion that this was Mariko's school and these rooms were classrooms. Yet this knowledge did nothing to dissipate the unease that permeated the unnaturally complete silence of the hallways.

After a moment Kim got up and walked back to the center of the corridor and placed her head against one of the columns. She resisted the urge to attempt to dig her nails into the hard stone.

_Amp down, Possible! She's here. You'll find her, just be patient._

However, this pep talk did little to calm her frazzled nerves. Time was the one thing she couldn't count on. She needed to find Mariko as soon as possible. Yet, losing her grip was so not going to help, either. As Kim slowly edged around the left side of the column, her ears were assaulted by a high, trilling keen.

As Kim winced against the unexpected pain, the figure of a man appeared quite suddenly from the other side of the column. She reflexively stepped back until the shrieking stopped. Once she got past the moment of surprise he had given her, Kim was able to study the man. He immediately gave her the impression of being slightly older than her father, or, at least, slightly older than her father had been in her first lifetime. Yet nothing about him seemed "middle-aged." Both his beard and hair were full and jet black, and one look at the figure he cut in his white gi told her that this was not someone to underestimate in a fight. In fact, the only outward sign that suggest his age, and it anachronistically suggested someone of a far advanced age, was the unadorned ebony cane he gripped in his right hand. The man stood completely still for a moment or two. With his head tilted slightly back, Kim wondered if he wasn't studying the tangerine clouds framed by the apertures overhead.

The man blinked his clear eyes twice and then, with the same swiftness he had exhibited when he appeared from behind the pillar, lowered his head and began walking toward the door to one of the large classrooms on the left side of the corridor. His steps were quick but not hurried, and his cane seemed to flow with his gait rather than to accentuate it. Kim watched as he reached the door and in one fluid motion slid it open, walked through, and shut it closed behind him.

"Students." His voice was decidedly no-nonsense, yet, surprisingly, not harsh.

Immediately, a chorus of voices in various timbers and pitches readily replied, "Yamamoto-san, good morning."

Then Kim heard similar exchanges repeated, almost in unison, coming from all directions about her. Almost as a disjointed echo, down the length of the corridor upon both floors, teachers and their students exchanged greetings. The dissonant ripples in this otherwise flowing wave of sound being the various instructors' names being called.

Once the final exchange was made there followed a moment of almost-but-not-quite silence when it seemed like the entire building was taking an anxious breath. Then the classes commenced.

The din was not overpowering. On the contrary, the voices that were vibrating against the many walls and through the many screens that separated the respective classrooms from the hallway were soft, reserved. However, since Kim was trying to discern Mariko's from among them, they quickly muddled into a single confusing stream of speech as sexes, ages, and subjects folded in upon each other. When she believed she had caught a snippet of voice that could have belonged to the little girl, she would follow it for a few feet or maybe even a few moments only to lose it among the discussions leaking from the classrooms she passed along the way.

After several very frustrating minutes of running up and down both sides of the first floor, part of Kim just wanted to stop, lean up against a pillar, and try her luck when the classes let out.

_But what if they don't let out at the same time? And what if her class is on the second floor? Aaarrrrrrrrrgh!_

The thought of possibly losing Mariko in a throng of students even for a short time was completely unacceptable. Kim felt like she was already running on borrowed time. She had so much to tell the little girl, and although she couldn't predict when it would occur, one thing was certain: every minute brought her closer and closer to her next blackout.

As Kim anxiously fretted over what she should do next, she absently noticed that the hallway had become brighter. Hopelessly, she glanced to the roof and saw that the morning sky had become a bright blue. This only brought back memories of the preternaturally beautiful day when Mariko had her heart crushed in the pagodah. Kim lowered her head and looked at the dark shadows created by the brilliant morning sun through the roof's apertures.

Certainly, the morning sun made the corridor seem much less like a tunnel, but it also underscored the true, darker nature of the school building. The bright rectangles of sunlight slowly moving along the hallway's floor only served to highlight the dark spaces between them-spaces that looked, for all the world, like prison bars.

Kim was brought out of this dismal meditation by a burst of speech coming from one of the classes on her left that sounded like ... well, like it was in _German_.

The silence that followed was so full, so complete that Kim began to question whether she had misheard the chorus of voices or even that she had imagined it completely. Then the chant sounded again.

_No, no, that's Russian, isn't it? Waitaminute-what's going on here?_

As she neared the room, the next speech literally made her take a step back.

_Hindi!? You have got to be kidding me!_

Of course, she didn't understand everything being said. However, even if she hadn't traveled across the earth dozens of times over as a teenaged hero, Kim most definitely could recognize _the sound_ of most major languages. And the voices were running through most of them! Whatever was going on behind that screen, it sounded like the most advanced language class in the world.

Advanced, but not perfect. There were tremors of uncertainty at the edges of the phalanx of voices-notes of trepidation in the otherwise confidently spoken words. As she approached the classroom, she realized it was the same one that she had seen that man, Yamamoto-san, enter.

And then she realized something else about the ensemble of voices. It was almost as if one of them was perpetually out of step, but it wasn't a time thing; no, Kim couldn't quite say _what_ the difference was but it was much more than that. The next sentence spoken en mass was in a language she knew well; she had taken it Freshman and Sophomore year: French. And that was when she recognized what was wrong with the single voice.

This sole voice was speaking, _as it had been each time_ , in English. And then with the enveloping numbness that all shockingly obvious discoveries are made, Kim recognized that the voice belonged to Mariko.

V.

"Mariko!"

Kim immediately, instinctually, and desperately tried to find a way into the room. She first tried squeezing herself through the window immediately on her right. The shutter, like those installed in Ron's building, opened upon a ratcheted hinge but was only cracked wide enough to permit her arm up to the elbow. She hastily peered through the slight opening but could only see a small slice of the room's ceiling. She ran to the other window, but its gap was even narrower, only allowing room for her ring and pinky fingers. Racing back to the first window, she shoved her arm through the open space as far as it would go and began waving it back and forth frantically.

"Mariko! Mariko!" Kim cried into the shutter's gap over the tumult of the little girl's classmates.

Initially, Kim had not known if the little girl could see her or hear her because Mariko gave no verbal sign to her first cries into the room. However, the absence of her friend's voice from the current "group statement" (which sounded like it was in Swedish perhaps) told her that she _had_ gotten Mariko's attention.

And possibly gotten her into trouble.

"Mariko-chan," the instructor's voice intoned. He then started speaking rapidly in the Scandinavian tongue.

Although Kim did not know the language, the sternness in Yamamoto-san's voice was unmistakable.

_Oh, no! I'm so sorry, Sweetie!_

However, Mariko's reply to her teacher was surprisingly relaxed … and in English.

"I am so sorry, Yamamoto-san. I did study my Finnish. Dishonor was not meant." Her voice was faint, but that seemed more because she was speaking from far away, perhaps the opposite side of the room, than from timidity.

Yamamoto-san spoke to her in a gentler voice-apparently in Finnish.

"'One's honor speaks loudest when one remains silent.'" Mariko replied in a light, happy voice.

The next phrase the teacher spoke had a decidedly approving tone.

"Thank you, Yamamoto-san," Mariko replied.

Although Kim was relieved that Mariko had avoided punishment, she was bewildered by the exchange she had overheard. How did the little girl understand what the teacher had said? Kim wasn't surprised that Mariko understand languages other than English-she was, after all, born in Japan. But Hindi, Finnish?! And if she did understand these languages, why was her teacher allowing her to answer in English? Something seriously odd was going on.

Kim leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to a sitting position. A small wave of relief passed over her. She was certain Mariko knew she was there now. Obviously, interrupting class was not going to happen. However, the little girl would definitely seek her out once class was over.

_Hope it doesn't last all morning._

And then?

Well, then she would tell Mariko that they would have to tell her daddy who "Rufina" really was.

And then?

_And then ..._

VI.

_This is going to be so hard._

Kim didn't even know what she was going say. What _did_ Hirotaka have planned? How could Ron, Lotus Blade or no, possibly fight against the samurians, opponents that he could neither see nor hear? How would the little girl handle learning all these horrible things about the place she had always called home?

She would have much preferred revealing all of Yamanouchi's secrets to Mariko with Ron present. Mariko would definitely handle the news better with her father by her side. If the three of them were together, everything would be so much … better, or, at least, easier to bear.

Kim shook her head against the anxious feeling that was suddenly rising in her temples. It had manifested the instant she realized that Ron would know she was there. And as much as her mind resisted _that_ and feared its consequences, she couldn't deny that her heart, at least part of it, yearned for it. After a moment, she successfully, if only for the moment, pushed these intense feelings aside.

Regardless, she-no, _they_ simply could not afford to wait for the ideal situation of the three of them together to take place. Everything had to be divulged to Mariko as soon as possible since Kim could disappear again at any moment. When she returned, _if she did_ , things might be utterly changed ... and-

_No, not going to think about that._

At least now there was still a chance of escape.

Then a dark thought announced itself unexpectedly.

_How am I going to get Mariko alone to tell her everything?_

She would need more than an all-too-brief break between classes to explain everything to Mariko. There was so much to tell, so much that Ron needed to know. The samurians, the idols and the Mandrill, Hirotaka's plan ... And what if Mariko became frightened by what Kim was saying? They would need time and privacy so Kim could calm her fears.

When she closed her eyes, Kim visualized their slim hope of escape as a portal through which daylight ebbed into a pitch-black room. With every second, however, the portal shrank, closing like an iris and the beam became thinner and thinner. Finally, the light began to fade, dim, and blend in with the room's surrounding darkness.

VII

_I'm sorry, Honey. You so don't deserve this._

For a few peaceful moments, Kim had been reminiscing about a time when her former boyfriend's biggest concern had been the rushing defense of the Upperton Urials. For weeks Mr. Barkin had been hyping one of their defensive ends as being able to out-run (and even out-flee) anyone in pads-Ron included. Unfortunately, two of the three nights preceding the big game had been swallowed up by missions to Antananarivo and Quetta, so Ron had missed almost half the week's practices. Kim had tried to reassure him that the missions had given him plenty of "running away" practice, but he was still mucho worried.

So the night before the big game, she convinced Ron to forego Bueno Nacho for a little while and stick around the stadium after their respective practices were done.

"What're you doing KP?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Ron?" Kim asked, strapping shoulder pads over her cheer top.

"Uh, Kim, I'm not sure if it is _exactly_ against school rules to be a cheerleader and a football player at the same time, but I don't really think it's possible."

"Excuse me," Kim said sternly as her head appeared through the top of the football jersey she had just tossed over her head. "Check my name."

Ron's face quickly drained into his variation of an "I'm-in-trouble-again-aren't-I?" expression.

"It's okay, Ron," Kim laughed. "I just thought," she explained as she worked her arms through the jersey's sleeves, "that we could get in some extra practice for the game."

"O-okay," Ron said, still not quite sure where his girlfriend was going with this.

"Barkin said that this guy playing for Upperton could outrun-"

"Or 'out-flee,'" Ron corrected.

"Or 'out-flee,'" Kim said with a roll of her eyes, "anyone, right?"

"Uh-huh," Ron said in a deflated voice.

"Well, do you think he could outrun me?" Kim asked.

"No," Ron said immediately, confidently. "Nobody can run faster than you, KP," he smiled. Then his face darkened. "Oh _no_ , Kim. There is _no way_ I'm going to let you play my position in the game! I know you can do anything, but you gotta draw the line-"

"Ron," Kim interrupted with an outstretched hand. "I am _not_ suggesting _that_! My natural Kimness has never gotten _that_ out of control. "

"Then," Ron said rubbing the back of his neck, "wh-what are you suggesting, KP?"

"I'm suggesting that if you can 'out-flee' me, you can 'out-flee' anybody on the Upperton squad."

An instant after a flash of recognition crossed Ron Stoppable's face, his back came into contact with the hard turf.

"You're going to have to run faster than that, Stoppable," Kim said in her gruffest voice as she climbed off of him. She stood up, smiled, and extended her hand.

After blowing his bangs from his eyes, Ron returned the smile and took hold of his best friend's hand.

Even though the pads and jersey seriously off-balanced Kim's poise, she was still a much faster runner than Ron. Fortunately, there was a great deal more to his "running away skills" than speed. His quicksilver ability to change direction mid-stride and to creatively improvise "on the run" served him well. Very well, in fact. Out of ten tries, Ron successfully made it into the end zone seven times. What's more, in five of those attempts he scored untouched-including the last time. Kim got up from the turf, brushed the grasshalms from her bare knees and tried to catch her breath. As she watched her boyfriend lying on his back in the end zone, she couldn't shake the suspicion that she had only been able to catch and tackle Ron three of those times because he had let her do so.

"You," she gasped, "you, so have nothing to worry about tomorrow."

"You think so?" Ron asked, edging up on his elbows.

"I know so," she smiled. She wiped the sweaty hair from her forehead with the arm of her sweater-like cheer top.

Ron stood up, hope in his eyes. "I've been thinking, KP."

"Yeah?" Kim asked. She was still out of breath. She reflected that one of the strengths of Ron's technique was that because he wasn't running at full speed the entire time, he was able to conserve his energy while his pursuers, who _were_ running on all cylinders all the time, burned theirs out.

"If I am able to 'out-flee,' you," Ron said and then paused in thought.

"Uh-huh?" she nodded.

"I should be able to catch you, too."

"Wha? Oh no you don't, Ron Stoppa-"

Before she even made it one yard, before she could even turn around in fact, Ron had charged and swooped her up into his arms. And before she could even finish his name, his mouth had joined hers.

An hour or so later, Kim listened to Ron's steady heartbeats as she and he reclined on the stadium's bleachers. She didn't know what time it was and really didn't care … except.

"Ron, doesn't Bueno Nacho close early tonight?"

"It's okay," he said pulling her closer.

"Okay?" She pulled from his embrace. "'Bueno Nacho.' 'Closing.' 'Okay.' What about these things doesn't add up?"

"It's okay, KP," Ron said, enveloping her back into his embrace, "Mom's still got leftovers in the fridge if I get hungry."

Kim thought about questioning his "if I get hungry" remark, but it felt too grand being in his arms. She closed her eyes. The only concern that flickered across the backs of her eyelids was that she probably smelled really, really bad right then. Another breath of her BFBF's own royal, yet strangely comforting, stink extinguished the fear that he'd hold it against her.

The Indian summer days of mid-October had ebbed into the first truly chilly week of autumn, and the night air was brisk. Fortunately, a towel Ron had placed on the bleacher insulated Kim's legs from its cold metal. Although the new cheer uniform did keep her arms warm, its skirt was just a short as the ones Sophomore and Junior year had been. Just as she heard a strong breeze whipping high overhead, Kim felt Ron shift position and then felt the warmth of his letterman jacket fall across her thighs and knees.

The next few moments of silence were so peaceful that Kim almost drifted to sleep.

"Kim?"

"Yes?"

"When do you think they shut the lights on the field off?"

Kim sensed the slight concussion of a nearby source of power switching off and instantly noticed the darkness behind her eyes grow marginally deeper.

"Oh. Never mind, KP."

Kim laughed and without opening her eyes snuggled deeper into Ron's arms.

She didn't know how much time had passed when Ron's next words nudged her from her light doze.

"Sorry, Honey, what did you say?" she asked.

"Oh-my bad. I was just wondering why Upperton doesn't just call themselves the 'Rams.'"

"Alliteration," Kim yawned. She kept her eyes shut, enjoying the sensations of the cool darkness and the comforting tones of her BFBF's voice.

"Yeah, I know," Ron continued, "But there has to be limits-I mean, 'Urials' is sooo close to 'Urinals.' Is alliteration really worth _that_ risk?"

"I don't know," Kim smiled, content to listen to the two-part harmony of Ron's prattling voice and the beats within his chest.

"Oh, and I just remembered, the guy in the Ram's head is a real jerk! I bumped into him at Cheer Camp and, let's just say, he doesn't live by all Seven Principles of the Mascot Code."

"I'm sure the tweebs will be able to handle him, Ron."

"Yeah," Ron conceded.

Kim waited for it. Then she waited some more. After about thirty beats of Ron's heart, she realized he wasn't going to say it. He wasn't going to undercut her reassurance with a "…maybe," "… I suppose," or an "… I guess." Without moving, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

Although the stadium lights were off, the moon made her eyes' transition from the soft darkness of her lids to the soft darkness of the night a smooth one. Ron was staring off into the distance with the most serene expression Kim could ever remember him having.

It wasn't just happiness although that was there, too. No, his eyes brimmed with confidence as well as contentment. Everything about them, everything about him, in fact (the way his head was turned, the way he held his shoulders, the firm grip of his large hands about her, the steadiness of his pulse as it vibrate through his jersey and against her cheek), stated emphatically that Ron Stoppable was completely, perfectly at ease with himself and the world.

It was this cherished remembered moment that shattered Kim's reverie and brought her back to Yamanouchi.

Although she knew that she would never again look up from Ron's lap to see such contentment on his face, what saddened Kim was the thought that no one ever would. And the devastating part was that if he never did reach that place it would be because of her.

She had meant it weeks before when she told him in her loft to let her memory go. He needed to move on and try to find and reclaim goodness in his life. However, she could not imagine how that would be possible if he learned that she was still there, an invisible witness to the rest of his life.

All her fears and dark thoughts about the Yamanouchi School were pushed from her mind when placed next to this thought. Considering the number of times in the past he had had her back, Kim knew there was no way that Ron, if he knew the entire truth about the school, wouldn't come through for his little girl, for the world. No, the hard part would happen once they got out of this sitch, when they all would have to deal with the consequences of the Truth being revealed.

_Oh, poor, poor Mariko._

Kim looked briefly up through the crack beneath the classroom window. As if on cue, she heard her friend's small voice chiming in a few steps behind those of her classmates.

Although their first few interactions might be infused with hope and catharsis, Kim knew that in the long run Mariko's role as mediator between her daddy and her best friend would become a terrible, terrible burden. All those complex and painful adult emotions. It was all too much to expect from a child. Something Kim would never willingly put anyone through.

The idea of staging her revelation as a one-time visit from the spirit world occurred to her. After all, Ron didn't need to know that she was there on a more-or-less regular basis. She could just pop in from the spirit world, tell him what he needed to know, and "vanish." But there was no way she could enlist Mariko in such a scheme. True, the little girl was keeping her identity hidden already, but Mariko had volunteered to do that. This would seem too much like making the child lie for her. Besides, would it even make any difference?

Kim reflected dourly that _even if the lie became true_ the damage would already be done. Even if, some time after telling Ron, she did disappear forever, would he be able to get on with his life? Wouldn't some part of him worry that she might still be there or might appear again? There would be no closure for Ron. How could he open himself up fully again with another person, how could he move on, how could he be at peace if he suspected that she, his best friend and former love, might at any time of the day or night be _there_.

Kim honestly didn't know how she would react if she see him falling for or being with another person. The unpleasant image of him with Yori flickered across her mind, but was quickly, rudely brushed aside.

_That so doesn't matter!_

If she had problems seeing him happy with someone else, that would be _her_ "ish" to deal with. But if Ron knew she might be there, it would become his, too.

And that was cruelly unfair.

_Sorry, Honey, sorry._

VIII.

For the better part of the next hour, Kim sat more or less perfectly still in a state that swung between listlessness and frenzy as her thoughts tiptoed, now stumbled, then raced through a tangle of anxious premonitions. The one thing that kept her sane, if not happy, during this time was listening to the buoyant voice of her friend from the other side of the wall. Mariko really seemed to be enjoying the class. Even though Kim found the class' subject matter more than slightly irritating and mildly alarming and the little girl's English responses increasingly puzzling, the light, innocent and, yes, at times, Ronnish inflections in the girl's replies couldn't help but make her smile.

Not surprisingly, the true subject of the class was, despite the admittedly impressive language guise, Honor. Every sentence, no matter was language it was being spoken in, fell into four categories: 1) What was Honor, 2) What were Its noble attributes, 3) How one could best exhibit these attributes in herself, which led inevitably to 4) How one could attain and maintain Honor. It was easy for Kim to see how students of Yamanouchi could come to believe that Honor was the key to everything. Why not? It was apparently involved in EVERYTHING.

Among other things Kim learned was that there was an Honorable way to eat, to sleep, to walk, to read, to speak, to remain silent, to breathe, to sweat, to yawn (if one must), to tell time, to roll up one's mat, to roll up someone else's mat, to fold one's clothes, to fold someone else's clothes, to cut one's hair, to cut someone else's hair, to put on one's shoes, to drink, to pour a drink, to pour someone else's drink, to laugh (if one must), to address an older person, to address a younger person, to address a person of the same age, to clean one's teeth, to bathe in the onsen, to splash in the onsen (DON'T), and even an Honorable way to go to the bathroom.

_**That's it!** _

The solution had been so simple and obvious that Kim couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it before.

_If we can get to a bathroom, I can tell Mariko everything without interruption!_

Kim was so energized by this turn in her thoughts that she sprang to her feet and began walking outside the classroom's door in excited, rather than nervous, agitation. As she did so, she absently realized something about the chorus of voices that she had failed to notice before-they had the stilted delivery of people reading from a tele-prompter ... _or from a chalkboard_. That sparked the memory of Mariko asking Ron, just before she read the card from Kim's parents, if the card was in English. Obviously, this was the class where the little girl learned how to read and read in different languages. But it still made no sense to Kim. If the class was reading these sentences from other languages, why was Mariko the only one translating them into English?

_Waitaminute ... what if she_ _**isn't** _

Just as this thought burst across Kim mind, the class began speaking a line in Japanese. And then ...

" _Lady, a-are you okay?"_

She remembered the very first words Mariko had spoken to her. Kim had been so emotionally distraught and her sight had been so marred by tears that she had been initially unsure whether Mariko had spoken these words to her in Japanese or English, but _she had understood them as if they were in English_.

Kim was so thunderstruck by the implications that these thoughts presented her that she was only brought back in the moment when she heard Yamamoto-san's sharp voice clap against her ears.

"Mariko-chan!" This was followed by several words spoken rapidly in Japanese.

Kim held her breath in the silence that followed.

"Mariko-chan," the instructor repeated in a less stern and more concerned voice. And then he said the following words in English, "Are you feeling well?"

"Oh yes, Yamammoto-san," Mariko said quickly. "I am so sorry!"

"Are you not going out to train with the others?"

"Yes, Yamamoto-san, I-I am," Mariko spoke hurriedly.

"Are you certain you are feeling well?" A brief pause. "Well, you must hurry. I am sure Rina-chan is waiting for you."

_"Going out to train?"_

Kim was standing not three feet from the room's closed door. She had definitely not seen the rest of the class leave. Then she heard the tell-tale patter of the little girl's feet hesitate and then fade into the distance.

_There's another door!_

Kim charged down the corridor and tore around the first corner she found, searching frantically for an exit.

IX.

Mariko couldn't get her left knee to cooperate.

Sitting with her back against the thick trunk of a tree on the northern edge of the small courtyard on the northernmost edge of the school's grounds, she was diligently trying to sit as honorably as she could.

Her right knee gave her no problems at all, but the left one just wouldn't stay bent at the correct angle long enough for her to slip her left foot onto her right thigh. She could sit in the half lotus position without even thinking about it, but the full lotus was not easy, not at all. Since it was the most honorable way to sit (not that it was _dishonorable_ to sit in the half lotus; it was just not _as honorable_ as the full), she had to master it to move on in her physical training class. If she couldn't and ended up falling behind everyone else, it would all be the fault of her left knee.

But she knew that wasn't really the truth.

Sure, her left knee was giving her trouble, but the real reason she couldn't get her mind and body to listen to each other was because she was too busy worrying about Rufina.

When she awoke alone that morning, Mariko, for the first time in what seemed a very long time, had wanted to cry. As much as she really liked Rina, Mariko couldn't help feeling lonely when both her father and her best friend were gone. And she felt so very alone that morning, the morning after learning that her friend Rufus had died. She tried her best to squeeze all the sadness inside her, down into a cold little ball that she hid somewhere deep in her chest. That made her feel somewhat better, but still other bad feelings hovered about her. She remembered how badly she had wanted to have the Mystical Monkey Power so she could keep Rufina from disappearing. Even though both her father and her friend had told her there was no reason to blame herself, she still felt like she had let Rufina down whenever she was taken from her.

But she had not cried. Rina came in to get her ready for school, and Mariko had not cried. Tears always made Rina upset and nervous-not angry like they had always made her mother, and Mariko didn't want the older girl to be unhappy. She tried to be cheerful as Rina helped her get dressed and then ushered her to school. Class was a relief because its busy-ness always (at least in the short number of days she had been going so far) kept her mind off everything that made her sad. Besides, she loved learning.

Rufina's sudden cries in the middle of class had startled Mariko into giddy happiness. They made her feel like she always did whenever she was running and laughing in her dreams. Rufina had never returned so quickly before! But then she noticed how scared Rufina's voice had sounded. And then when she saw Rufina's arm desperately trying to squeeze underneath the shutter, Mariko's heart started to hurt. It hurt just like it had when she had seen Rufus trip and fall down the stairs. Her friend was in desperate trouble.

The remaining minutes of class had been extremely painful. Yamamoto-san was nice, but she knew he would not allow his class to be dishonorably interrupted or allow her to leave early. It was very, very hard for her to concentrate on all the sentences and not get the languages mixed up while she knew her friend needed help. Mariko just hoped that Rufina would be okay until class was over.

Once her classmates began filing out to the Training Courtyard, Mariko quietly walked toward the cracked window. Yamamoto-san's sudden voice had slapped against her ears so sharply that when he had asked her what she was doing, she had been so surprised that she almost told him. Fortunately, he had softened his tone when he spoke again-as he always did, and she had been able to regain herself. She could only hope that Rufina had overheard Yamamoto-san instructing her to go to the training session.

And that Rufina knew where to find her.

However, as the minutes flew past and the sun light crept across the small twig-strewn green, Mariko's worry grew. How _would_ Rufina know where to go? And what if she didn't find her before it was time to go back inside? And, of course, what if Rufina had disappeared again?

When these questions came, a small tingle began at the tips of the little girl's fingers and she felt like standing up. Standing up and going to look for her friend.

But she knew she couldn't do that. Leaving class without permission was dishonorable. And it would be disrespectful to her teacher. The cold point of sadness in her middle weighed her down.

She looked to Yamamoto-san on the opposite side of the courtyard. Most of the students were clustered on that side, closest to the building. Only a few students, trying to master the honorable act of meditation, were anywhere near Mariko, and they were still pretty far away. Standing rigidly by a small tree, her teacher watched Rina and an older boy Mariko didn't know too well work through some taijutsu moves. Rina looked so much older in her white gi. Mariko thought about how her friend must have very recently gone through the Initiation because she still seemed very unsure of herself. Rina had a very unhappy look on her face.

Mariko looked at the grass.

Thinking about the Initiation always made her feel uncomfortable. It was a secret, and she wasn't supposed to know anything about It. Even knowing It was a secret was something she wasn't supposed to know. The fact that what little she knew she had learned from her mother made her feel a little better; she, at least, didn't feel dishonorable in knowing about It. And she had been told so little; she couldn't even say what It was.

Her mother had only told her that students couldn't learn to taijutsu and all the other wonderful ninja techniques until after It happened to them. And that It wouldn't happen until Mariko was no longer a child. And that It would hurt. And that It would be a little scary, too. But that was okay, because her mother said It was one of the very most honorable things.

But then her mother had explained that no one knew anything about It until It happened to them, so the fact that _she_ did know while no one else did made Mariko feel a little bad inside, too. And, of course, thinking about It reminded her of her mother. Who was gone now. And that _always_ made her sad.

Mariko looked up from the grass and watched as Yamamoto-san placed his cane against the tree's trunk and walked toward Rina and the older boy. With swift agility, he demonstrated the move to Rina and let her try it twice against him. Her second attempt met Yamamoto-san's approval. Happy to see Rina smiling again, Mariko looked to the building for any sign of her friend.

Seeing none, she went back to to trying to focus upon the full lotus.

Before she had completed her first attempt, something cracked inside Mariko's chest. Something loud, warm.

She looked at the far building, then to the groups of students on the far side of the green, and then back to the building. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to unfold both her legs so she could stand.

Then she stopped. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't break the rules.

"Mariko!"

"Rufina!" Mariko exclaimed loudly. Her friend had suddenly appeared around the side of the tree she was leaning againt; her face was red, and she was completely out of breath. Before another thought crossed the little girl's mind, she had sprung to her knees and was giving Rufina a very tight hug. She loved how her friend smelled and the touch of her long, red hair as it brushed against her forehead.

"Sweetie," Rufina said as she gently but firmly broke the embrace. "Have you told your daddy?" Her voice was hurried, urgent.

"Wha-?"

"About Hirotaka?"

"N-no," Mariko said, sitting back down, "he's not back yet."

Rufina placed her finger to her lips and asked in a softer, yet still anxious, voice, "How long have I been long?"

"I-I don't know. You weren't there when I woke up," the little girl explained in a quieter voice. "Maybe a few hours."

Although the points of nervousness were still in Rufina's large eyes, a brief smile broke across her face. "Really?" Then she was serious again. "Sweetie, there's so much more to tell! We need to go somewhere and talk-now. Can you excuse yourself, you know, from class so we-" Suddenly, Rufina's face went rigid with pain, and both her hands flew to her temples.

Terrified, Mariko reached out to her friend only to see her stagger quickly to the little girl's left to make way for Yamamoto-san who had sprinted across the courtyard and was now kneeling close to her. The look upon his face was one of utmost concern. Over his left shoulder, Mariko saw the horrified face of Rina coming into view.

"Mariko-chan?" The sharpness of her teacher's voice startled her.

The little girl shot a quick glance toward Rufina. Her friend was edging around the side of the tree's trunk. Pain was ebbing from her face, and she smiled weakly as if to tell Mariko that she was okay.

"What is the matter, child?" Yamamoto-san's voice demanded to be answered.

"I-I," Mariko began.

The teacher pressed his palm against her cheek. "Are you ill? Would you like some water?" Once again, his tone had softened.

Mariko nodded.

"Rina-chan," Yamamoto-san said, without turning his face from Mariko's, "a cup of water, please."

The little girl heard Rina's footsteps die away, but her eyes stayed fixed with those of her teacher. In the first moments after the older girl had left, nothing but silence passed between teacher and student. Yamamoto-san's eyes seemed to be studying Mariko very closely. For her part, Mariko looked deeply into her teacher's eyes. Although not unkind, they were dark.

"How is your training going, Mariko-chan," he asked finally.

She smiled and explained, as best she could, the problem she was having with her left knee. When he asked her to demonstrate, she showed him how it wouldn't bend as easily or as long as her right one. It was very hard for her not to steal a look over her left shoulder at Rufina as she did this.

Yamamoto-san paused in thought after watching Mariko's attempts. Then, in a kind voice, he asked her sit up a little straighter so her back was no longer touching the tree and to turn her neck a little more to the right and to try it once more. Without Mariko even having to think about it, her left foot slid easily over her right thigh.

Rina arrived with the cup.

Mariko drank the water steadily. She had not known how thirsty she was! She smiled as her teacher took it from her and asked if she was going to be all right.

"Yes, Yamamoto-san," she said with a bow of her head.

He looked at her for another long minute, and then, with a slight bow, he departed.

For the next few minutes, Mariko anxiously practiced the full lotus again and again as she waited for Rufina to start talking to her once more. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer and turned to face Rufina. But she was not there.

A tiny spot in her chest, cold and hard, stung Mariko. Before it could weigh her down, she stood and walked around the trunk of the tree. Once. Twice. A third time. She was going to call out for her friend but stopped.

Rufina was gone.

The cold, sad spot in her chest grew. As it did, she discovered that she couldn't stay on her feet. Mariko flopped gracelessly upon the ground. Even the half lotus was impossible now. Now that she was using all her energy not to cry.

* * *

_To be continued ..._

Section VII was inspired by WarBandit's wonderful art "Kim and Ron's Valentines" on dA.


	20. Nineteen

I.

The darkness that enveloped Kim Possible seemed absolute, infinite.

Apart from the warm, prickly feeling of the tears running down her cheeks, she could only sense that she was standing upon a flat surface. Her staccato breaths were all her ears could detect in the void.

No matter where she turned, emptiness stretched out before her.

She took a consoling breath and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness; she kept time by counting the beats in her temples. After reaching three hundred, she stopped.

Her sight wasn't any better, and she realized it wasn't going to get any better.

She closed her eyes. Opening and closing them once more, she could detect no discernible difference. The blackness seemed limitless. All of Kim's memories could never hope to fill even a small corner of it.

_Amp down. Amp down. You can figure this out, Possible. It CAN'T be as bad as it seems._

She tentatively extended her right hand before her, and, an eternity of seconds later, it came into contact with something. It felt very strange, gossamer-like. Her fingers easily slipped through empty spaces upon its surface.

_Ooookay. What's on my left?_

Leaving her right hand where it was, she extended her left arm to what she judged to be the same distance and felt nothing. A little further out, still nothing. Slowly moving her arm a few feet further to the left, it finally came into contact with a hard surface. The texture of this second object was funny-similar to the first, but not exactly. At least this object seemed completely solid.

She slowly swung her left arm back; it sailed through empty space until it made contact with the same strange substance that her right hand was still clutching. Kim set her hands free, took a breath, and proceeded to step into the clear middle space.

She fell so quickly that it didn't even occur to her to scream until after she landed.

The after-rush of vertigo overlapped the biting pain. She had no idea how far she had plummeted or what the sharp and blunt objects she had landed upon were. But the suddenness, the agony, and even the shame of her fall shattered the tenuous hold Kim had desperately been trying to maintain over her emotions.

" **No! No! No!"**

She thrashed her limps in futile rage and screamed as violently as she could. Her body came into contact with all manner of unseen objects that she thrust herself against again and again. The twisted sense of release the aches from the numerous injuries gave her was even shorter-lived than the injuries themselves. Much like her first day in Mariko's cell months earlier, Kim was trapped in a miasma of utter misery. Sobs burned her throat as her nose streamed across her face.

"Why? Why!"

Long after her voice could only croak out hoarse whispers, Kim continued to beat her fists and pound her legs against the tortuous objects that surrounded her yet refused to either yield to her blows or give her reprieve from her thoughts. Finally, she collapsed, exhausted. Since the luxury of unconsciousness was not available to her, Kim could only lie listlessly as the numerous, ebbing pains ran across and within her body. She felt as if she were on fire, a fire whose flames were dying out far too slolwy.

Kim couldn't have cared less if she was being consumed by the black flames of Oblivion. Memory was the _only_ true torture; the memory of how she had failed her two best friends.

II.

When Kim saw them, she wasn't sure her eyes were open. Not at first.

She blinked and, yes, they-they _were_ really there. Objectively, from their distance to her person, they closely resembled stars. Subjectively, however, they reminded her of something else.

_Sleepy bugs?_

The muscles in her arms and legs involuntarily relaxed at this thought. A dim glimmer of hope-the mere suspicion that she could be tired and somehow fall asleep-proved to be powerfully consoling.

However, they were twinkling, and "sleepy bugs" didn't twinkle. They were also white and silver, flickering between these two colors. "Sleepy bugs" were always blue, green, and yellow.

There had only been two at first, but within moments there were easily _two_ _dozen_. As they came closer, she could no longer confuse them with "sleepy bugs" or stars. They were more like snowflakes now. Fat, wet snowflakes. For an instant, Kim was reminded of the ending to that story she had read for English class only weeks before she died. She gently shook the memory aside.

They were spiraling out from a central point far, far above her. The sight reminded her of photographs of galaxies hanging in her father's den. The objects at the very top were only pinpricks of light while those further down the empty cone of void seemed to fluctuate between being stars and ice crystals. The first few that she had seen, now only yards above her, had a veined texture to them, like feathers or leaves.

 _No. Blossoms._ Lotus _blossoms._

Hirotaka's ominous words from the spire rudely echoed in her memory. However, Kim was able to toss the assassin's cryptic pronouncement aside as the objects came into clearer view. They were not blossoms but solitary _petals_. More importantly, they were not falling but gracefully sailing down through the darkness toward her.

They reminded her of the mysterious blossom she had seen floating in the black pool ... just before Rufus died.

Whereas the blossom's ineffable glow, reflected upon the obsidian waters, had been dying along its petals' edges, the light in these petals was _surging_. In fact, their light seemed to grow in intensity as they approached her.

They were, in fact, bright enough to light a room.

And Kim _was_ inside a room. The disjointed shadows and boundaries of the cavernous room fluttered into being as the petals softly came to rest, perching upon edges and corners within its cluttered space. Although the strangeness of the chamber was pronounced, her initial emotion to the room's discovery was one of gleeful, shuddering relief.

She hugged her shoulders, now completely bereft of pain, and dragged her top teeth against her trembling bottom lip. She was not in Oblivion; her second lifetime wasn't over, not yet, not yet.

_Thank you, thank you._

Shakily, she gained her feet and stared at her surroundings that, with each successive petal's landing, became more focused, stark, and bizarre. The source of the strange sensation she had first felt was quickly resolved. Everything was coated in thick drifts of dust. In addition to the large mound of dusty objects that seemed haphazardly piled where she was standing-in the room's apparent center, dust also gathered in gray dunes along the edges of the room … or, of the small cave.

It was a roughly-hewn cavern, a room carved and chiseled from the heart of a mountain. Wade relaying the school's founder's method of construction came to Kim's mind. This memory was followed by a sharp, funny sensation across her chest that passed almost as instantaneously as it was felt. She noted no obvious exits. As the final petals glided through the completely still air, however, Kim discovered a violent boundary on the room's far right side.

Slowly, carefully, she strode across the gray desert to get a closer look. As she did, an immense abyss revealed itself. Jagged rocks overlooked a pit so full of darkness that it brought the recent illusion of Oblivion back to her. She shook her head and then peered across the expanse to make out the flickering stone walls on its other side. It seemed unlikely that this room had always been so ... broken in two.

_Earthquake, maybe? Still ..._

And how did a person normally get into this place? It was quite obvious that no one had been there in a very, very, long time. For some minutes, Kim continued to stare intently at the other side of the chasm for some sign of an egress-a tunnel, a path, remnant of a severed bridge. She saw nothing.

As she turned away, she happened to glance at the room's smooth, domed ceiling far overhead.

"Ah ... so that's how."

The center of the dome was pierced by a large oculus. The oval stone window was perfectly shaped and edged with a slightly raised boundary, so there was no mistaking that it was there for some purpose or design. That one of its designs was to serve as the room's entrance seemed obvious when Kim spied an extremely long, cob-webbed rope ladder dangling from one of its edges. The ladder extended to about five feet above the apex of the mound of dust-coated objects from which Kim had apparently fallen. From the base of the ladder, a spider web branched out into a dust-moted canopy that extended the remaining fifteen feet or so to the floor. Immediately, Kim realized that the web had been the strange object she had first blindly handled when she arrived. This theory seemed proved by the "dust angel" directly below the web.

_Must have made that when I … when I lost it._

She looked to the ladder.

_Okay, Possible, here we go._

If Kim used the web to reach the ladder, she would be out in no time. As she clambered across the room's somewhat slippery, powdery surfaces, she realized that the oval window must have also been the source for the lotus petals. They must have floated down like ashes in a chimney.

_Almost like they were guiding me to the exit._

As she passed a glowing petal upon one of the dunes, she snapped to a halt.

_No. That doesn't make sense._

There had to be more to it than that. Whenever she had reappeared, the location had _always_ been important. Surely, she hadn't been placed into the room just to figure out how to leave.

_No. I'm meant to do something here._

Kim turned her back on the rope and tried to figure out what was so important about this strange room in which she had been placed. She began by walking toward the nearest petal and inspecting the immediate area to which it threw its light. She then inspected the lighted areas around three more petals.

Within their surging penumbras, Kim could make out bundles of scrolls, vases, the edges of weapons, ornate armor, and thick tomes. Unfortunately, as brilliant as their lights were, the glow from the petals couldn't pierce the layers, _the centuries of layers,_ of dust that seemed to shroud every inch of the room. Twice Kim reflexively tried to brush aside the thick clouds of sediment before futility and frustration settled her back to reality.

As she went between two of the petals on the far left side of the chamber, she noticed the air grow slightly darker. She turned; one of the lotus petals had begun to sputter and dim.

_Oh no._

She hurriedly went to the next petal, but she could not discern anything about the ancient sword upon which it was resting because the dust was, of course, much too thick.

The dimming petal went out, and then another one, not ten feet to its left, began to fizzle.

"Oh, this tanks ... this tanks so bad!"

As she tried to control her mounting frustration, Kim momentarily gave into the fruitless temptation of blowing the dust out of her way. And then she remembered the "dust angel" she had seen earlier.

"Waitaminute!"

She raced to the center of the room and verified that the imprint in the dust was indeed real. "Okay, okay," she said as she kicked at the piles of dust and confirmed that she couldn't disturb them, "if _I_ didn't do that, _somebody_ certainly did."

She looked up to the rope hanging motionless from the exit. She could clearly see its fibers beneath a fuzzy, _thin_ layer of dust. "Okay. _That_ hasn't been here for centuries."

She bent down on one knee to see if the room's "recent" visitor had cleared the dust away from anything besides the floor. She slowly pivoted upon her bent knee checking the five foot perimeter around the "angel."

"Booyah!"

There was an obvious hand print upon the handle of a sword a few feet from where she was. She scooted toward it and noticed that objects on either side of the sword seemed to have a thinner layer of dust as well. The spine of a thick book to the sword's right was wiped almost completely clean; however, there were no words upon it.

"Not that I can read Japanese, anyway." she groused.

She stood and did a quick evaluation of the room. At least three more petals had gone out.

She bent back down and tried to follow the "path" that had been cleared by the visitor through the dust from object to object. To the left of the book, there was a small sheathed dagger that looked as if it had been picked up, partially wiped clean, and then replaced not quite where it had originally been. Before the book and the dagger, there were two circular impressions in the dust, as if someone had knelt in the small space between the objects. On a hunch, Kim scooted into the small space so her knees fit, more or less, into the same clearings that the visitors' had made. An overhanging piece of parchment, stretched at a sharp angle from the book to the dagger's original position, created a de facto cubby or compartment. Kim peered into the soft shadows beneath and, in the steady light of a nearby lotus petal, she discovered a clay tablet that would have fit easily into both of her hands. As her eyes ran over the intricate design etched onto its surface, Kim's mouth became as powdery as the air in the darkening chamber.

In the design's upper left corner was the outline of a castle; to the bottom right was a cluster of black-clad figures. If the scene was strongly reminiscent of the mosaic painted within the pagoda's great hall, its resemblance to the one upon the screen in the room at the top of the Keep was even stronger.

However, Kim's breath had seized in her throat because of the _differences_ depicted upon the tablet's surface from those scenes. The group of black figures did not possess anything in their hands, not weapons, not lotus petals, not the Lotus Blade. In addition, they were not advancing across the canvas to the castle. It looked almost as if they were _fleeing_ from it.

But the startling difference lay in the bottom on the far left. Unlike the other illustrations she had seen, the tablet's southwestern corner wasnot empty.

In it, there was a single figure dressed in white, not black. This figure was surrounded by an aura of cobalt blue. Even in the ancient dyes, dulled and faded by untold centuries, this hue still retained a brilliancy that the rest of the picture lacked. The source of the glow was the weapon the figure was brandishing _against the ninjas,_ who were Kim could see, in fact, _retreating_ from him.

And, of course,this weapon was the Lotus Blade.

The notion that crossed Kim's mind at that moment was casually arrived at, yet its implications had a seismic effect upon everything she had assumed about the Yamanouchi School since she had first learned of its existence back in another lifetime.

"Yamanouchi hasn't _always_ been a ninja school." she said, then swallowed to regain her breath. "Maybe ... it was founded for a _different_ purpose."

_A so different purpose._

III.

The visitor's footprints sunk deep into the dust. If Kim had to guess, she'd say the individual had trekked through dust that had come up to his or to her ankles. Of course, that had been years ago, maybe a decade, because the attrition of time had already gone a long way toward recoating the small sections of floor that the visitor's steps had briefly laid bare.

Kim was following these footprints in hopes of unlocking any additional secrets the visitor might have stumbled upon. The trail seemed to roughly correspond with the placement of the lotus petals that were still emanating light. After everything that had happened, she could no longer attribute such coincidences to mere chance. Still, with the dimming of the petals in mind, she did not have time to puzzle over their mystery nor the apparent design behind her blackouts and re-appearances. She could only give the enigma a passing but heartfelt recognition.

_Thanks._

So she could see as much from the person's perspective as possible, Kim began walking within the footprints. They were slightly larger than Ron's. Her suspicion that the previous visitor had been male seemed confirmed by this fact.

He had taken a circuitous path around the cluttered central space of the room and then meandered toward the chasm. As she followed the trail toward the precipice, Kim anxiously held her breath. Had the visitor been stumbling aimlessly in the dark and then toppled into the abyss? Was she about to see his last steps recorded in the dust?

_No. He must have had a light source. Why else would have cleared the dust off that tablet?_

The steps approached the edge but, thankfully, backed away and then ran parallel to it. The trail led some twenty feet to a corner of the room Kim had neglected her first time around. It was a shadowy space with two still-glowing petals. The footprints were different now. Kim could sense from how far they were apart and by the directness of their path that their originator had stopped exploring. Walking in his steps, she could feel his sense of purpose echo in her movements.

_He must have seen what he had been looking for._

What, at first, had seemed like another disjointed pile of dross was revealed beneath the petals' glow to be a shattered cabinet or multi-tiered chest of some kind. Spilling forth from its open and unhinged doors were flattened, torn, and wadded pieces of parchment-unbound scrolls. Unlike the surrounding rocks, the chest and the scrolls were covered with a slight layer of dust. Kim quickly but methodically checked over the scene.

Everything that she could see in the flickering light-the ripped and discarded writings, the agitated flurry of footprints surrounding the chest-told Kim that things had gone badly once the visitor had reached his goal. Perhaps, he had been unable to find what he had been searching for and thrown a fit.

_Or ... maybe ... he just didn't like what he was reading._

Kim hunched down to look through the exposed scrolls. More than once, she caught herself trying dig beneath the first layer to get a close look at those deeper in the pile. And more than once, she berated herself for even trying-( _I can't read Japanese, so what would be the point?_ ). Yet, she continued to look, holding out an anxious hope that she might see _something_ -a diagram perhaps or another picture-that might be useful.

Kim was caught completely off guard when the light changed.

She had been intensely preoccupied when it happened, but, more than that, she had been surprised because the light became brighter, not dimmer. After shielding her eyes for a few seconds, she looked in the direction of its source. The petal closest to the chest was surrounded by a throbbing nimbus; it hurt to look at it. As she turned away and blinked her eyes clear, Kim noticed that the lights from the other petals had died out.

Then she realized that wasn't quite right.

_No. They're not going out. All their energy is pooling right here._

As she glanced back to the pile of scrolls, she felt drawn to one near the top, lying unfurled just within the petal's light.

For a second, she thought her sight had still not recovered because the Japanese characters on the scroll seemed to be moving. The longer she looked, however, the more exaggerated their dance became. Characters' edges lengthened, branched out, and blurred with those of characters a line above or below. Kim blinked, and the characters looked as it they were growing smaller and their edges were vibrating. Their frenetic movements reminded her of spiders' legs. She blinked again, shook her head.

And the scroll was in English. Or, at least, she could read it _as if were written in English_.

The jolt Kim suddenly felt running from down her back to the bones of her feet was not caused by this incredible and inexplicable transformation. Rather, the feeling took possession of Kim as her eyes fell upon words that Sensei had uttered in the amphitheater. Two words that she could not define.

_Lotus child._

IV.

Her eyes quickly ran over the lines that preceded the critical phrase. Then she reread them slowly. And then she read them a third time, to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

She hadn't.

_Snap._

The lines only referenced the "lotus child" as being "another myth" that could "now be discarded to the heap of alarmist apocrypha." But there was nothing said, no clue given, as to what it was a myth _of_.

Kim brushed aside this disappointment and continued reading down the scroll.

The focus of the ancient text concerned the marking of an important milestone in the Yamanouchi School's history. However, the writing was circuitous and allusive, and it was several anxious moments in the noticeably dimming light before she pinned down exactly what this benchmark was.

A century had passed since ninjustu instruction had been introduced at the Yamanouchi School.

And during that period, the handful of courses had stayed rudimentary in nature and tertiary to the institute's main curriculum. The document listed the many attributes of holding classes "concerning such desultory practices" within a school founded upon "the heroic code of Toshimiru." Chief among these virtues was the ability for "the agents of Good" to learn the "faults, weaknesses, and pressure points of 'Darkness.'"

The scroll detailed the arguments that had been raised against the "Darkness" gaining access within the school's walls. One of the chief objections had been raised by Sensei Ningyo, the last scion of the House of Toshimiru and a possessor of Mystical Monkey Power. Although he acknowledged that ninjustu training would greatly assist graduates in confronting the assassins and even in preventing their foul acts, he warned these benefits did not outweigh the threat of contagion such "dark" courses brought to his ancestors' school.

Kim paused. She had no doubt where the story was headed; she was, of course, a walking validation for Ningyo's fears from so many centuries ago. The light from the last petal pulsed, grew dimmer. Kim read on.

A compromise had been reached. The doctrine of the assassin would be taught, but with key omissions. Foremost amongst the ninja traditions to be excised were those of their Initiation and their Final.

Kim read the words "Initiation" and "Final" aloud. As the syllables ricocheted among the darkened corners of the chamber, she involuntarily hugged her arms close to her chest.

Sensei Ningyo had been insistent on this point. His outrage for the traditions was unmistakable. The training of ninjustu could not begin until a pupil was _initiated_ to physical agony and emotional defeat in a 'ceremony' that amounted to little more than a brutal, ritualized beating of the student. This proved, as far as Ningyo was concerned, the inherently vile and despicable nature of such training.

Kim remembered Hirotaka's words from the amphitheater. And although they suggested such a horrible experience was still many years in the future for Mariko, the fact that such abuse was planned, was _scheduled_ for the little girl made Kim angry to the point of nausea. Ron could not suspect that such a hideous practice existed. Like the Kappa Warriors, the legion of monkey idols, and the Mandrill, Kim knew the Initiation was an "Honor" being kept hidden from the Chosen One.

Then a flash of Rina trading blows with her instructor as Kim had run toward Mariko beneath that tree shot across her mind. Had the young girl recently gone through this horrible ritual? In the steadily lengthening shadows of the chamber, Kim's heart went out to Rina. Her chest stung for the irretrievable loss of the girl's innocence and the pain she must have suffered.

Students of ninjustu, Kim wearily read on, had an exam to pass in order to attain the rank of a true Ninja. This Final was the selection of a target for assassination and then the successful completion of that person's murder.

With ghastly simplicity, it all became clear. She had been Yori's Final and Monkey Fist had been Ron's. Kim fiercely brushed her eyes clear after only a moment.

_If I have to carry you to all the way to Middleton myself, none of this is going to happen to you, sweetheart!_

The gathering darkness drew Kim's ragged attention back to the scroll. To read the last lines, she had to kneel on the floor.

Before his death at the age of one hundred and thirty, Sensei Ningyo had dismissed his earlier doubts on the subject of ninjustu contagion. The courses taught at Yamanouchi had been, he affirmed, sufficiently "diluted of their dark content."

As Kim read over the self-assured words penned by a long-dead scribe, she plainly saw the unwritten, tragic story of the intervening centuries. It was sadly apparent to her how this scroll, the chest it had been sealed within, and the other forgotten objects of the forsaken Yamanouchi School had come to be entombed beneath layers of dust at the bottom of the mountain.

As her eyes passed over the recorded final words of the great Ningyo, the light from the remaining lotus petal ebbed until it was not much more than a fading ember. Sensei Ningyo proclaimed confidence that his ancestor's school and glorious heritage had remained "unsullied" by such close association with "the vile artistry of assassination." "This has neither sowed nor will it ever reap," he concluded, "any loss of honor."

Kim closed her eyes resignedly upon reading this final word.

The light from the last petal in the chamber died.

V.

"A month? Honor _no longer_ heeds Time, Sensei."

The unexpectedness of Hirotaka's bristling voice startled Kim.

"Time must now bow to _It_ ," the ninja concluded in his less-than-reserved tone.

The suite Kim found herself in was unlike any place she had been since returning to Yamanouchi. The king-sized canopied bed that swallowed up half its floor space, the towering electric lamp humming in a corner, and, yes, the central air/heat vent just above the ornate wainscoting all gave off a most definite _Western_ vibe. The room's walls were hidden by curtains of the same bloody hue as those in the pagoda's great hall. The sheets and the fabric of the canopy, too. However, what cultural differences that existed were overshadowed by the decadent veneer everything held-especially when Kim mentally compared her new surroundings to Ron and Mariko's sparse cells.

She would have guessed that she had been transported to something much like Bonnie Rockwaller's boudoir if it had not been for the assassin and his master standing only a few feet behind her. And the monkey idols. Aligned against the wall opposite the bed were golden simian figures of various heights and degrees of ostentation.

And then there was something else about the room. Something odd that Kim couldn't put her finger on.

"Yabuki-san, may I have the honor of speaking?" Sensei sighed.

Hirotaka gave his master a perfunctory bow.

Although his disciple had been speaking rather boldly, the old man's countenance did not reflect indignation or anger. In fact, it betrayed nothing. His head slightly bowed and his eyes closed, Sensei looked as if he were weighing some delicate issue, patiently examining each aspect of a challenging problem so as not to make too hasty a decision.

After watching him hold this pose for some time, however, Kim began to wonder if the old man hadn't actually fallen asleep.

"Inform Stoppable-san," Sensei said finally without moving, "that Fukushima is rallying the Monkey Ninjas once more."

Kim had no idea what was going on, how much time had passed since she had been in the underground chamber, or even where this room was exactly. Nor did she recognize the name Sensei had dropped. However, of one thing she _was_ certain: the old man was lying. And this lie would somehow mean trouble for Ron.

"It shall be done." This time, Hirotaka's voice flowed with easy reverence. The ninja bowed, but with a fraction of hesitation.

"Yes?" the old man asked, cocking open his right eye.

"Sensei," Hirotaka began seriously, "will tracking and defeating a weak and cowardly deserter be enough to guaranty the Chosen One's loyalty?"

"Perhaps not, Yabuki-san," Sensei admitted swiftly, "but hunting down and killing one shall."

"What?!" Kim cried.

"Sensei," the ninja objected, "The Chosen One will not kill Fukushima. Stoppable-san only held that honor with Lord Fisk."

The relief the sudden revelation that Ron had _not_ become, as she had often been too afraid to wonder, a serial-assassin for Yamanouchi had only begun to pool within Kim's chest when Sensei shattered the calm of the moment.

"If he believes he is avenging his wife, Stoppable-san will have no difficulty knowing that honor again."

The color immediately drained from Hirotaka's face.

"No!" Kim shouted at Sensei. "You bastard!"

Hirotaka's mouth opened quickly but then closed without making a sound.

"If Time must bow to Honor," Sensei chided, "why not Truth?"

"Sensei," Hirotaka began coldly.

"Yabuki-san," Sensei reasoned, "would you rather you sister's death remain a tragic accident or that it play a pivotal, honorable role in our ultimate triumph?"

As Hirotaka silently weighed the merits of twisting the facts of his sister's death to aid in the noble cause of manipulating her widower into murdering an innocent person, it was all Kim could do to keep from pummeling him and his master.

She raised her fists within inches of their imperturbable faces and then helplessly dropped her hands. There was no keening; only her broken sobs and the humming of the lamp filled the room. Kim retreated to a corner, shuddering with rage and mounting despair.

_No. I can't let it happen again. No. No._

Kim futilely punched the curtains. As she wiped at her face, she absently noticed an unassuming, yet very familiar idol sitting upon an onyx stand next to the bed. It was the one without a head, and it looked very much the same as it had perched on a top row of the amphitheater.

Except, of course, it now _had_ a head lying on the stand a few inches to its left.

While despair and anger still swirled in her chest, dread crowded her mind. She recalled the words Hirotaka and Sensei had spoken in reference to the "Simia" and their ominous allusions to its missing head. Again, she futilely tried to piece together the meaning behind the mystery.

_Why haven't they put it together?_

Her heart flashed, and rage momentarily disrupted her thoughts.

_Oh, who cares?!_

She spun angrily around and saw Hirotaka acquiescing to his master's plan with a deep bow.

Sensei favored his acolyte with a slight bow, but lost his poise when a violent cough erupted from his throat. He quickly rubbed the web of spittle that stretched from his lips to his right fist into the folds of his elegant robe.

"Sensei," Hirotaka stated evenly, "surely, it will not take a month for Stoppable-san to … to avenge my sister's death."

"No," Sensei explained through two small, drier coughs, "but it will be a month's time before the _Tempus Simia_ 's head will be joined to its base."

"Sensei," Hirotaka sputtered, losing his composure, "why should we wait such an unjustifiably long-"

He was silenced by the old man's suddenly blazing eyes.

Kim did not notice this fiery exchange. The instant she heard the idol's full name, she was struck by a memory from Latin homework Junior year. Ron, acting upon one of his goofy misconceptions, had convinced her to take the difficult, dead language with him. This resulted, necessarily, with him needing Kim's help on practically every assignment. One evening while they both half-watched a rerun episode of _Agony County_ in the Possibles' living room, Ron had repeated difficulty translating a particular word from an assigned passage. Kim remembered being very exasperated with Ron at the time because she had already told him what it meant twice before in class that day-in fact, it was the title of the passage: _Tempus_ , or Time. Considering her extensive run-ins with primates during the final years of her life, _Simia_ would have been a 'no-brainer' even if she had never taken Latin.

"Time monkey?"

_"…only then, will Honor recast yesterday, dictate tomorrow, and compose today…"_

As she stared in disbelief at the two pieces of the idol, the meaning behind Sensei cryptic statements fell into focus.

_It ... it's some sort of time machine._

The prospect of Hirotaka and any number of his vicious Kappa warriors traveling back to any point of time Sensei desired was too horrible a possibility for Kim to risk dismissing the statue as just another monkey idol. True or no, she knew Ron _had_ to know about it as soon as possible-she had to tell Mariko. Frantically, she looked for an open doorway.

And then Kim realized what had been vaguely troubling her about the suite from the start. It had no doorway.

"I can reach the Temple in less than two day's journey, Sensei," the ninja insisted.

"Yabuki-san," Sensei asked, "When must the idol's head be attached to its body?"

"At noon, Sensei," Hirotaka answered with a slight note of impatience.

"And do you know why that is, Yabuki-san?"

"Because the sun's rays must strike full upon the idol at the instant the pieces are made whole, Sensei," the ninja said quickly.

"Yet," the old man smiled,the sun can only enter the Temple of _Tempus Simia_ through a tiny hole in its roof."

Hirotaka looked to the floor, but did not speak. What color his cheeks had lost minutes earlier was back in full force.

"And the next time the sun's strongest beams will pierce this small opening," Sensei said coldly, "is one month from today."

"Forgive my insolence, Sensei," Hirotaka uttered quickly as he bowed to his smirking master.

Kim had listened intently to this discourse. Although the whims of her blackouts were constantly a threat, she was hopeful, if not certain, that she could warn Mariko within a month's time. The question was whether there was time to prevent Ron from going on his mission.

The look of superiority in the old man's eyes faded as another volcanic cough convulsed his features. He recovered quickly and continued, "This month's wait proves quite fortunate as it provides adequate time to secure the loyalty of both the Chosen One _and_ his heir."

This reference to Mariko in Sensei's master plan made Kim involuntarily shudder.

"When shall Stoppable-san be sent on his mission?" Hirotaka asked, still bowing before his teacher.

"It begins tonight, Yabuki-san," Sensei smiled.

_No!_

Hirotaka rose with a smile. "I will select my finest warrior to trail him, Sensei."

The old man shook his head. "No, Yabuki-san, _you_ will trace Stoppable-san's progress."

Before the ninja could voice his displeasure, Sensei explained. "You are correct, Yabuki-san, it will not take Stoppable-san long to find a worthless deserter like Fukushima. I need you to make sure that it _does_ take a long time." He continued, "You must frustrate his trail for some time. A Kappa warrior cannot be trusted with such a complex assignment."

Hirotaka nodded assent.

"And then," Sensei said, his voice rising, "As his mission reaches its conclusion, you must appear to Stoppable-san and lay your sister's death in Fukushima's hands."

The ninja closed his eyes and nodded once more. He then asked, "How long, Sensei? How long must Stoppable-san's mission be frustrated?"

"A full month will not be needed," the old man said with a dismissive gesture. "Three weeks. We only need time for the traces of our efforts here to fade and heal."

_And … heal?_

Kim realized that her hands were hurting, and when she looked down saw that she had balled them so tightly that her knuckles were white. She didn't know what they were talking about, but she _knew_ something bad was about to happen.

"Do you foresee any difficulties?" Sensei asked his ninja as the latter returned to a standing position.

"No, Sensei," Hirotaka smiled. "Rina-chan is a most honorable student. She has informed me of _everything_ that has taken place in the Chosen One's cells. There will be no problems."

Kim felt like she had been slapped in the face.

Had Rina been spying on Mariko and Ron? Kim recalled hearing the little girl's door slide closed just before she encountered the Mandrill. Had Rina seen Mariko practicing Kung Fu that night? Perhaps on many nights?

Kim felt like she was going to pass out. She leaned against one of the bedposts and slid to the floor.

She had liked Rina and developed real affection for the girl. As she had read about the Initiation, she had fretted over what the twelve-year-old must have had to endure. However, it now seemed that the somber girl was headed down the same road Yori had chosen-trading all human values for the sake of a single, misused word.

Sadness passed into rage.

_Fine. Choose Honor, Rina. You'll just become another soulless puppet for Sensei._

And then the terrible consequences of Rina's betrayal overwhelmed her. If Mariko's training was known, the little girl was as good as defenseless.

"I've got to get out of here. I've got to get out, now!" She surged to her feet. But, again, her frenzied glance about the room disclosed no exits.

As if on cue, the curtains began to move in the corner diametrically opposite from where Kim stood. The swelling, bristling, running snout of a Kappa warrior poked through the burgundy fabric. The simian entered no further into the room, so it appeared as if his nose were disembodied, floating in mid-air. The warrior bared his yellowish teeth, uttered a string of harsh sounds, and vanished.

Hirotaka shot a look from his familiar to Sensei. "Yamammoto-san is waiting in your outer chamber, Sensei," he said with mild surprise.

"As I said, Yabuki-san," his master replied, "it begins tonight. _Everything_."

Hirotaka approached the spot where the samurai's muzzle had been. Drawing back the curtain, he revealed the backside of the simian warrior retreating down a curved passageway. As the ninja continued to hold back the drapery, Sensei exited the suite.

And so did Kim.

Walking down the steep, winding corridor between Sensei and Hirotaka was a very unpleasant and awkward experience. Although she would have liked nothing better than to either run ahead or lag behind the duo, the walls of the claustrophobic tunnel were too narrow for Kim to sneak around their barriers. In addition, the old man's pace was inconsistent and at odds with the ninja's. Since neither resonated keening, Kim had virtually no warning as to whether Hirotaka was about to run into her or not, on the one occasion she turned around to stare into the eyes of her killer's brother, when she almost bumped into Sensei. The tension generated by these near-misses kept her from being overcome by the withering hatred she felt for both of them.

As the tunnel emptied into a small curtained antechamber, Kim took the opportunity to get some "breathing" distance from the loathsome pair. She noted a sleeping mat rolled in a far corner lying next to an unassuming candle holder. Flickering shadows from without played beneath the small space between the curtains and the floor. Kim wondered if the opulent chamber they had left was located somewhere in the tower of the Keep. She now felt certain that, at long last, she was inside the school's fortified main building.

She turned her attention back to Hirotaka, but, surprisingly, he hung back in the quarters' shadows as Sensei approached the curtains. The old man parted and stepped through them into a larger room. Kim darted and then stumbled through the shrinking aperture.

Unadorned candlesticks lined the walls of the large room, but the shadows their flames cast overwhelmed what little light they provided. In fact, the arrangement of the candles created an area of darkness in the very center of the room. And it was in this spot that Mariko's teacher patiently bowed.

Kim was alarmed to see that Yamamato-san was flanked on either side by Kappa warriors. Although the one on the right was, more or less, standing at attention, the one on the left had his sword unsheathed and menacingly bore his teeth at the unsuspecting older man.

"Sensei."

"Rise, Old Friend," Sensei spoke, gesturing warmly with his right hand.

Yamamato-san stood. However, the relaxed look upon his face was belied by points of anxiety in his eyes. He shot a quick glance over Sensei's shoulder toward the rear of the room before his gaze fell back to the floor.

Kim reflexively looked over her shoulder and discovered a row of six monkey idols against the back wall-three on either side of Sensei's curtained "sleeping" chamber. It was a wide assortment. One looked like a short totem pole, three others looked like simian tikis, and then there was a pair of bullet-shaped ones. Unlike the multitude in the amphitheater, the eyes of these idols were dead. As she stared at them, she recalled Yamamato-san's somewhat worried look and wondered how many people at the school knew of Sensei's "collection."

_And what do they think about it …?_

Her thought was snapped as Sensei's voice rolled across the chamber.

"The time for Mariko-chan's Initiation is at hand."

 **"What?!"** Kim turned around and noticed the shocked look upon Yamamato-san's face before her eyesight hopelessly blurred.

"S-sensei," the teacher's voice managed. "I do not understand."

"Tomorrow morning, at dawn," the old man spoke with cold detachment, "you will _guide_ Stoppable-san's daughter through the rite of Initiation."

Kim was trembling with rage. She could feel the tears running down her wrist and along her arm as she wiped at her cheek with the heel of her palm.

"Sensei." Yamamato-san's voice sounded far away. "She is _less than half_ the appropriate-the _traditional_ age."

"At what age did the last scion of Mystical Monkey Power go through his Initiation?" Sensei's tone was rigid, interrogating not asking.

Kim tried to blink her eyes clear in the ensuing silence.

"The great Ningyo's Initiation was at the age of four," Sensei pronounced sternly. He then added in a careless, almost forgiving tone, "Traditions for the Chosen Ones are different." The last word was punctuated by a explosive, wet cough.

"Sensei," Yamamato-san asked finally, "Will Stoppable-san be escorting her to the Temple?"

"No, Honor compels the Chosen One to leave for the Mainland tonight," Sensei explained as he recovered from his fit of hacking. "Rina-chan will deliver Mariko-chan to the Temple."

"Yes," Yamamato-san said. "Yes, Sensei."

With her nails furiously scraping the insides of her palms as her unfocused eyes stared through the floor, Kim barely heard the incongruent sound of an automated door sliding open. She jerked her head up in time to see Yamamato-san's back disappear through a darkened doorway at the far side of the room. She sprinted, but the door slid closed before she could cross half the distance. When she finally reached it, she no longer had the strength or desire to slam her clenched fists against it. She slid to her knees and shuddered.

"Will he see it through, Sensei?" Hirotaka's voice asked somewhere behind her.

"Yamamoto-san is a very honorable man, Yabuki-san,"

"Rina-chan can be trusted not to breath a word to the child?"

"She, too, is very honorable, Sensei."

As Kim heard the pair's voices getting closer, she tried in vain to shut out their words, to only have ears for the sound of the door opening.

"Sensei, the _Tempus Simia_ ..."

"Rest assured, Yabuki-san," Sensei consoled, "it will remain under my constant protection in your absence. Now, you and Stoppable-san must begin your joint mission."

Although she did not know the way out of the Keep or even what lay directly behind the door, Kim ran into the awaiting darkness the instant the doorway opened to catch whatever slice of a starting advantage she could in the race to Ron's dwelling.

VI.

She was no longer running. And the dim lights of the interior passageway had faded into a limitless void. Yet before despair could gain ground in her mind, a glowing light, like welcomed heat, began to bead down upon her. As it did so, Kim realized she was again standing in the dusty, forgotten cavern. As her eyes adjusted to the pulsating beam, she saw that it was coming from the oculus in the chamber's ceiling. The ray filtered through the stagnate air and highlighted the rope ladder with its adjoining spider web that trailed into the dust just inches from her feet.

Without a second's hesitation, Kim leaped onto the web and pulled herself up to the ladder, climbing it two rungs at time. Her determination as she reached its end and began crawling along the cramped tunnel beyond the oculus was at such a fevered pitch that she barely noticed when the strong white beam of light guiding her faded into the pale amethyst glow of dawn. By the time she did notice this change, the tunnel was tall enough for her to scramble to her feet. A sensation of familiarity enveloped her as she chased the growing daylight down the tunnel. However, she didn't question the feeling-by this time, all she could think about was running.

When she reached the cave's end, she effortlessly jumped over the bush and dodged the tree trunk that crowded its entrance. She looked out upon a view she had seen several times over the course of her days at the mountain school. The valley that lay beneath the southern edge of the campus still exuded a psychic pull upon her, but it was not even a consideration for Kim now.

She turned away from the view and faced the simian skull carved into the mountain. Noting absently that she had just exited the monkey's right eye, Kim raced over its nose and began scaling the high cliff with unabated fury. Once at the top, she paused only to gather a painful breath inside her burning lungs and then Kim took off for the pagoda as fast as she could go in a race against the mounting light of dawn.

* * *

 **A/N:** The original inspiration for the underground "chamber of secrets" came from a description of the Nishapur mansion in the second chapter of Sir Salman Rushdie's novel _Shame._


	21. Twenty

I.

As Kim tore around the rear corner of the Keep and started to charge along its fortified wall, her mind hesitated. The path through the woods on the building's opposite side, she realized, would have been a shorter route to take. In the fraction of a second it took for her to reject this option and rededicate herself to the longer yet clearer path to the pagoda, she mislaid her footing against a stone hidden amongst a blanket of decaying lotus petals.

Blossom-free branches upon the vermillion sky, the painful glare of the rising sun, and the school's open main gate in the far distance tumbled across Kim's line of sight as she cart-wheeled violently. And then there was pain, followed by anger, and finally fear.

Even before she could see clearly, Kim struggled to her palms and knees and then stood. She cursed as she regained her wind, impatiently waiting for her vision to focus.

_Come on, come on, please. Come on!_

When it finally did, she realized she had come to rest midway between the Keep and her friends' building on the outer edge of the courtyard. Spinning about, Kim took off at full speed. Vertigo dogged her first few yards, but she quickly regained her balance and sprinted toward the tree-line.

Blood throbbed in her wrists; the top of her mouth burned; her eyes pulsed in rhythm with her breath. All that mattered was reaching the temple before Mariko could be led inside. Before the child was sealed within.

The pain in Kim's chest swallowed up so much of her being that she could no longer feel the movement of her legs as she crossed into the woods. If the path framed any of the extreme beauty that she had encountered on the day of Mariko's first interview with Sensei, she did not notice it. If there were birds hidden among the branches, she did not hear them.

_Faster … need to go faster._

As she rounded the major curve in the path, the pagoda came into view. It was a hundred and fifty yards ahead, maybe fewer. Then Kim noticed a solitary figure standing a dozen feet or so up the path, blocking her way.

Although the girl's head was turned, presumably to glance back at the still-open temple door, Kim knew by her height, by the cut of her hair and most tellingly by her despondent posture that it was Rina.

Even if there had been space in Kim's mind at that moment for disappointment or resentment, there was no time to feel or express it. Mariko most assuredly was already inside the pagoda.

As she side-stepped the girl's stationary form, Kim could see that the temple's large door was closing. Somehow she wrenched more energy from her legs. The exertion was so great that pain radiated along what seconds earlier had been numbed limbs.

Kim knew she would never reach the door before it closed. She was still at least seventy yards from the temple when it did.

And yet, a precise, calculating calm descended upon her. She continued her churning pace and methodically scanned what she could see of the building for some other entry point. It wasn't that Kim's can-do, adaptable nature was coming to the fore as much as it was her fierce emotions taking command. Renewed intensity was what Mariko deserved. At the very least, Ron's daughter was owed that Kim would never give up … even if all realistic hope had been extinguished.

Her current state of being would make it easy for Kim to scale any inch of the structure's surface. Even a splinter of wood could support her. Making it to a window in the tower would be no problem.

If any were open. And then, even still, how would she make it to the main hall? She knew from her first inspection of the pagoda that its first floor was completely sealed off from anything that might lie above it.

_There'll be a window open on the first floor. There will._

Reaching the temple's grounds, Kim skirted the front of the building, not even giving a look to the impassable main entrance. Heading to the left side, she leapt with care over the line of hedges that had hid the Samurian statues weeks earlier. For an instant the heartening, if unfounded, notion that the samurai were safely out of the picture during their master's absence graced Kim's thoughts. She shelved the idea as she carefully picked her way through the rocks, saplings, and bushes.

Although she knew it was unlikely, one of the windows on the temple's left side might have its shutters open. Or at least open enough for her to squeeze inside. It was definitely worth checking. Then she would try the building's rear, then its right side, and then the front would get a thorough inspection. And then ... and then she would have to get creative. She would do whatever the situation called for except give up hope.

Within seconds, this evolving plan of attack became unnecessary as Kim discovered a large window on the pagoda's southern wall with its shutters opened wide.

Although she raced at full speed toward the dark, open space, her mind, if only for an instant, hesitated. Horrible thoughts that Kim had successfully staved off earlier were now confronting her. What would she find once she crossed into the great hall? How much had her being a few minutes late already cost Mariko?

_No!_

Kim rudely dismissed these pointless thoughts.

_It ends now._

As Kim neared the open window, she heard a shrill noise. It sounded far away, or perhaps that was a trick of an echo within the pagoda's walls. There was something disarming about it: unexpected, almost pleasant. At the instant Kim jumped through the open space and her mind decoded the sound as a cry from Mariko, she was struck in the chest by Yamamoto-san's body as it hurtled out of the window and catapulted her into the trees.

II.

The pain was intense. It was a struggle to regain breath. Yet nothing felt broken.

Rolling to his side, Yamamoto-san attempted to climb to his feet. The clouds in his chest dissipated slightly as he took in a full breath. The resulting violent cough prevented him from standing and from answering the voice that was urgently calling out to him. He was able to make out the little girl's words fine however.

"Yamamoto-san! Oh no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Looking toward the source of the agitated voice, he could make out the ebony top of Mariko-chan's head bouncing in and out of view from the base of the window. He had landed a good ten feet from the building.

He shook his surprise from him, but before he could speak and quiet the child's alarm, she had vanished. He strained to hear the faint sounds of her voice as it echoed from deeper within the building. He lifted himself against a nearby tree, leaned his weight upon its trunk, and waited.

The pain was negligible now. Yet without his cane, he wouldn't be going anywhere. But he was in no rush. In fact, the few moments of solitude were a blessing. He needed to contemplate what had just happened.

On reflection, it seemed ... impossible. However, the dull ache in his back and the fact he was clutching onto a tree for support reasoned otherwise.

It had happened. The why and the how were of no concern. However, what happened next _did_ matter.

What _he_ _chose_ to do next.

The child's approaching cries brought him out of his thoughts.

"Yamamoto-san! Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

The evident concern in her voice made him smile. He watched her weave through the underbrush toward his location. As she made her way through the higher bushes, only the top of her head could be seen. She was such a young child.

"I couldn't find your cane," she called to him between breaths. "Sensei didn't know where it was, either."

She came charging from the bushes into full view, but then stopped. She turned and ran a few steps back from where she had come and bent down so she was hidden among the vegetation. A moment later the child was running toward him again with a wet, three-foot branch cradled in her arms.

"Will this be okay?" she asked, presenting it to him. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Adjusting his hip against the trunk, Yamamoto-san took the offered piece of wood in his right hand and held up his left to silence the child. He now knew what his course of action would be.

She obediently stopped speaking. Yet she began, he noticed, to nervously chew her bottom lip.

Once he had tested the suitability of the new cane, he stood erect under its support and looked upon the child in silence for a moment.

Then he bowed to her.

He broke the posture a second later to test his suspicion. He had been correct: she was bowing to him as well.

"Stoppable-san," he addressed her, "stand up straight."

At first, the girl seemed unsure that he was speaking to her, but finally she did as he had bid her.

"You have no cause to bow to me on this day," he explained. He then resumed his full bow before the puzzled child.

"Come," he said standing erect. "Let us return to the temple. There is one more step in today's lesson."

III.

Kim felt like vomiting.

She had finally come to rest within a tangle of branches high in a tree some distance from the temple. The period of time she had spent ricocheting between the tall pines had been interminable. Even now that she had stopped moving, the world seemed to race about her. Numbness and pain traded positions across her entire body. She knew she should not close her eyes, but the scattered, swirling vision that confronted her whenever she turned her head proved too much to handle. Surprisingly, the sense of dizziness was almost bearable in the dark. And that was when the faraway voice of her friend cut through the sickness and reached her.

Kim's eyes shot open. Steadying her head with both hands, she followed the sound and blinked furiously until she could just make out Mariko's blurry form moving across the forest floor hundreds of feet away. Although there was no way she could tell for certain, the voice sounded as if the little girl was … okay. Mariko sounded concerned, but not anguished, not in pain. She seemed to be calling to someone.

As Kim's eyesight finally cleared, her hearing focused as well. She made out the word "cane" and then the phrase "Sensei didn't know."

_What's going on?_

Kim freed herself from the branches and gingerly began making her way from treetop to treetop toward Mariko's position. The knowledge that the little girl was no longer inside the temple's walls sent a shiver of elation through her. All she needed to do was cross that distance, make her way to the ground, and sweep the child into her arms. And then they would be gone.

Briefly, the spinning image of the school's open main gate returned to her. Although that probably wouldn't be their exit, the memory heartened Kim.

Then she heard a second person speaking. She recognized the voice as Yamamoto-san's, but as he spoke her mind clouded. It brought back her last memory before she had been sent cascading into the forest. What had sent the teacher flying? Could it have been Mariko? Was it possible that Rina had not informed Hirotaka and Sensei of the little girl's training?

Kim heard the teacher say, "Stoppable-san." The possibility that Ron was being addressed sent a shudder of confused hope through Kim.

Yet, as she drew nearer, she could only see the teacher and Mariko.

Then as she leapt between trees, she heard Yamamoto-san telling Mariko to return inside. She steadied herself against a pine's trunk and watched in mounting horror as the little girl dutifully fell in step behind him.

_No!_

"Mariko!" she cried dropping painfully from one branch to another.

_Why didn't I yell to her before?!_

Immediately, the little girl's head shot up and begin looking hopefully, yet fruitlessly, in all directions above her.

"I'm here, sweetheart!" Kim called, "I'm coming! Don't move!"

When Mariko began waving toward her location, Kim felt so relieved that she almost lost her footing.

Maintaining her balance was not Kim's only concern however. The little girl had apparently not heard everything Kim had said because she was still following her teacher along the pagoda's wall. Mariko did pause more than once to wave and beckon to Kim, but the little girl did not stop walking.

Kim, on the other hand, felt like she was trying to run through deep water as she watched her friend getting further and further away. Spotting a thin branch some thirty feet directly below her, she gave in to her mounting desperation and let go of the bough she had been clutching and plummeted.

Her chest slammed into the branch, knocking the wind out of her. The shock of the impact was so great that Kim didn't have the strength in her hands to hold on. She slid off and fell the remaining ten feet to the ground.

"Mariko ... wait," she coughed weakly against the immense pain across her chest and tried futilely to stand. When she looked up, the little girl and her teacher were gone. The injuries were ebbing away, but not quickly enough. Kim crawled against the pain until she could walk and, once she was able, she ran. She turned the corner of the building.

_Dammit!_

There was no sign of them. Fear bubbled inside her. Then she noticed that the door had been left open. As Kim raced toward the darkened entrance, Mariko's face suddenly appeared from within its shadows. She smiled an effortless smile and eagerly waved to her friend before vanishing within the darkness once more.

The instant Kim entered the damp, suffocating chamber, she felt completely disoriented. Despite the open windows and the array of lit candlesticks, a dense, smothering pall hung across the room. Everything that wasn't dulled into shadow was shrouded in those horrid curtains the color of drying blood. The only figure she could make out in the gloom was Sensei, standing in the middle of the chamber and flanked on either side by a pair of monkey idols. Frantically, she peered into the dense shadows about her for any sign of Mariko.

"Are you okay, Rufina?"

The little girl's soft voice and the touch of her fingers on Kim's right wrist were as welcome as they were surprising.

"Baby!" Kim cried as her arms felt for, found, and wrapped themselves around the child.

Mariko's returning embrace, at first surprised and hesitant, quickly became as tight as Kim's.

"Stoppable-san," Yamamoto-san's voice beckoned. "Please step forward."

"Oh," Mariko whispered apologetically through her cupped hand to Kim's ear. "He means me, not daddy. I have to go."

"No," Kim breathed urgently. "We need to get out of here, Mariko. Now."

Mariko hesitated and then cupped her hand to Kim's ear once more, "Why, Rufina? I was only playing with Yamamoto-san. Just like we do."

"This is _not_ the same-" Kim interrupted crossly. She distractedly glanced over her shoulder at the doorway.

"B-but," Mariko, a little unsure, whispered back, "that's what Rina told me to do."

"S-she did what?" Kim asked her full attention back on the little girl.

Mariko motioned for Kim to lean in closer. "Rina told me that I was going to see Yamamoto-san today," she explained in a whisper, "and that I should play with him like I play at night with you."

Kim could find no words to reply.

"And I won!" Mariko said happily through her curved fingers. The smile in the her voice contrasted so sharply with the pair's immediate surroundings and with every fear Kim had been fighting the past few hours that, for a moment, she felt like she was in a trance. Or, perhaps, asleep and caught between two vastly different dreams.

"Stoppable-san," Yamamoto-san said, a note of exasperation entering his voice, "approach."

Still reeling from the implications of Mariko's last statements, Kim was only half conscious that the child was gently leading her to the center of the great hall. Once she realized what was happening, her instinctive reaction was to snatch up the little girl and jump out the nearest window.

But she held back.

The bombshells Mariko had just confided were not the issue. As she watched Yamamoto-san and Sensei staring intensely at the approaching child, Kim realized that if she hoped to get Mariko away from the school forever she would need to spirit the little girl away with as few witnesses as possible. If Sensei observed the girl levitating out a window, it would so not bode well for the fortunes of their escape attempt.

So, instead, Kim shifted her hand from the child's palm to her right shoulder. Much as she had done on Mariko's two previous ventures into Sensei's lair, Kim stuck as rigidly close to her friend as she could.

Yamamoto-san gestured for Mariko to stand beside him. Once she did, he bowed to Sensei, and she followed suit.

Kim kept her eyes steeled upon the old man.

His hooded eyes did not leave Mariko even after Yamamoto-san rose and began addressing him. This, however, soon changed.

"The Initiation is over, Sensei," Yamamoto-san stated flatly.

For an instant, the old man's eyes lost their rheumy cast. A violent cough rattled inside his chest, but he did not speak.

"The daughter of the Chosen One has defeated me," the teacher continued, "I have fulfilled what Honor has asked of me this day." He then turned to face Mariko, and, with a slight gesture to let her know she should remain standing, he bowed to her once again.

When he rose, he gave the child the briefest of smiles. And he left.

Kim's gaze quickly returned to Sensei. As relieved as the teacher's words had made her feel and as touched as she had been by his actions, she so didn't like the fact that he had left Mariko alone with the old man.

Her anxiety only increased as the minutes ticked by and Sensei remained silent and still. His eyes closed, and, for a few seconds, Kim allowed her gaze to drift from the motionless old man. In addition to the large monkey idols on either side of him, she could see various idols arranged beneath his canopy at the rear of the hall. Her eyes fell upon the two parts of the _Tempus Semia_ and then sprang back to the old man. The slightest of movements had creased across his weathered brow.

"Mariko-chan," Sensei spoke through his beard. Then he coughed, and his eyes sprang open.

They appeared strangely cheerful. "Forgive me," he corrected, the whiskers about his mouth curling into a smile, " _Stoppable-san_ , it appears that you have surpassed everyone's expectations, including my own."

Kim could feel a giddy tremble pass through the little girl's shoulders. She tightened her hold upon the child and pulled her flat against her own body.

"Yours," Sensei continued with the same unnaturally pleasant expression, "is, indeed, a singular triumph."

And then Sensei did something that genuinely surprised Kim. He, with the slightest hesitation, bowed before Ron's daughter.

"No, no, Sensei," Mariko exclaimed. "This isn't right." She shrugged out of Kim's grasp and stepped toward the school's master.

Looking up from the floor, Sensei's eyes were still disturbingly bright. With his right hand hidden within his cloak, he gestured with his left for her not to approach him, to stay right where she was.

By the time Kim had reached her again, she was bowing to the school's master.

"Hold out your hand, my child," Sensei instructed kindly as he stood.

Her eyes reverently pointed to the floor, Mariko did as she was bidden.

A half-second before Yamamoto-san's cane could slash across Mariko's open palm, Kim slapped the child's arm safely from the weapon's path.

"Who taught you kung fu?!" Sensei raged. His scream echoing from every corner of the darkened hall. "I demand to know where you learned this dishonorable _Chinese_ trickery!"

Mariko was too startled to be genuinely afraid. Or to run away.

As the seething old man started to bring the cane down upon the child's quivering form, Kim huddled about her and held on tight.

The impact drove them into the floor which shot them furiously through the air. They collided with a wall and then bounced sharply against another before they finally came gently to a stop in the middle of the hall.

Sensei stared at Mariko from far across the room. All the anger had drained from his features. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Mariko was shaking violently.

"Sweetheart," Kim asked urgently. "Are you okay?" Everything had happened so fast, but Kim had believed, had prayed, that she had kept her friend's body shielded with her own as they ricocheted about the large room.

Tears bubbled from the child's eyes, her mouth framing a silent cry.

"You bastard!" Kim screamed at Sensei. Returning her attention to Mariko, she asked, "Show me where you're hurt, Mariko."

"W-why?" Mariko sobbed. "What did I do? What did I do wrong?" Her cries ran along the walls and out the windows of the vast room.

"You didn't do anything, sweetie," Kim consoled as she kissed one of the girl's running cheeks. She shot a withering look at the old man. He had not taken a step toward them nor had his fury returned. If anything, he looked stricken.

"I'm getting you out of here, Mariko," Kim said, and she went to stand.

Instantly, keening erupted about Kim's head. The shrieks were so intense that she reflexively shot her free hand against her ear. Her right arm, however, continued to cradle her best friend's daughter.

A thought flashed through Kim that Yamamoto-san must have returned to the hall and was approaching them.

_So doesn't matter! I'm getting you out of here!_

As she turned her head to gauge their distance from the entrance, she noticed that Mariko's teacher had, indeed, returned. But he was standing far off in the doorway. The keening wasn't coming from him.

It was coming from Ron.

IV.

"Daddy!"

Kim scooted quickly from between father and daughter. Another excruciating blast of keening assailed her as Ron landed on his knees and his arms swallowed his little girl in a desperate embrace. She edged out of his radius only enough so she could take her hands from her ears.

"Baby!" Ron choked. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No," Mariko said, answering both questions as she rubbed her running nose against the shoulder of his gi. Despite being uninjured, Kim could tell the little girl was still very frightened. Mariko tightly clutched bunches of the black fabric that made up her father's uniform within her small hands. She seemed afraid to let go.

Kim shot another hateful look toward Sensei. The old man had not moved.

When she looked back to Mariko and Ron, she was overcome with the desire to hug them both. It wasn't only because they were her two best friends in the world. And it wasn't only because trembling with relief, anguish, rage, and residual fear Kim badly needed human contact herself at that moment. Mostly, it was because as she took in the sight of them desperately clinging to each other, they looked to be two of the most broken and lonely people she had ever seen.

Seeing no other option, Kim edged back within the orbit of Ron's keening and placed her right palm soothingly in the middle of Mariko's back. Although it was only a small gesture, she hoped that it could somehow deliver a measure of relief to both of them.

After a moment, Ron gently pried his daughter's hands from him. He looked her up and down. "Are you okay, Honey?"

She nodded and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

He wiped her nose with his sleeve.

As Mariko took a step back, Kim moved her hand from the girl's back to her shoulder. Mariko turned her head and gave Kim a slight smile.

"Mariko," Ron said, regaining her full attention. "I need you to step outside with Yamamoto-san for a little while," he explained. He looked back to the doorway. "Would that be all right, Yamamoto-san?"

The teacher's outline in the entrance nodded.

"Daddy?" Mariko asked.

"It'll just be for a minute," Ron assured his daughter.

"I need to speak with Sensei."

V.

More than once, Mariko looked back at her father and her best friend as she made her way through the hall's broken shadows. Ron gave his daughter's last concerned look an easy, good-natured wave. Kim smiled and called to her friend that she, too, would only be a few minutes. The little girl continued to the safety of the daylight streaming through the room's entrance.

Once she left, time ceased to matter. Sensei, Ron, and Kim remained motionless.

Sensei had not moved since he had delivered his blow against Kim and Mariko. He was in the exact same position, the cane still held tightly in his grip.

Kim stopped looking at the old man. He was no longer a threat to Mariko, to Ron, to anyone. His presence was no more than that of a statue. If she had decided to, she could have easily forgotten he was even there.

Ron was her focus now. After waving good-bye to his daughter, he had turned his face to the floor, staring fixedly at the same spot between his hunched legs. There were dark circles under his eyes, and she noticed scratches on his left cheek and a dark purple bruise on his right. Where was Hirotaka? Had Ron already defeated him? This hope was balanced by the sobering observation that her best friend looked so very much older than his twenty-five years.

Although he remained still, Ron didn't ebb into the background like his former master did. On the contrary, as every minute went by, his presence seemed to increase to the point where it overshadowed the hall.

The air felt like it was growing heavier. The shadows seemed to draw back, edge back into the corners. More than once, Kim felt the hair at the base of her neck stand up. It was almost as if she, the building, even the day itself, sensed something big was coming. And it was radiating from Ron. The petrified look upon Sensei's face testified that he had been feeling something quite similar. In fact, the only person who seemed oblivious to it was Ron.

Finally, he uttered, barely above a whisper, "My wife."

Kim had never heard her friend sound so, so very alone.

Sensei coughed, opened his mouth twice, but could not produce a single word.

"She devoted her entire life," Ron spoke to the floor in a brittle voice to the floor, "to your sense of what honor meant."

As he spoke, Ron sounded to Kim as if he were tentatively making his way from word to word, as if he was desperately trying to keep everything from falling apart. His words made her chest hurt.

"And this ...," he continued listlessly. And then he paused.

" _THIS!_ " his voice exploded as his face shot up from the floor, his eyes burning cobalt. " _THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HER!_ **"** The lotus blade erupted in his right hand. **"** _HOW DARE YOU TOUCH OUR LITTLE GIRL!_ **"**

A spasm shot across Kim's chest, and she reflexively backed a few feet away from him. Although his eyes and expression were startling, it was the intense rage in his voice that inspired her fear, however brief.

 _Sensei's_ fear, however, was not fleeting. As he ran from the center of the hall, the head of Yamamoto-san's cane knocked against one of the large monkey idols, sending its thin shaft back into his legs and tripping the old man onto the stone floor. As he fell, his skull struck the base of one of the candle holders. Shadows produced by its unsteady flame shifted and danced about the hall as the holder tottered back and forth before finally regaining its balance.

Walking swiftly, without hurry, Ron was only a few feet behind Sensei when the old man struggled to his feet.

A faint aura of cerulean beaded along the sword's edge.

_Ron!_

Although she knew she was powerless to stop whatever was about to happen, Kim could not reconcile herself to simply stand by and watch Ron murder another human being. She ran to her best friend, feverishly trying to think of something she could do.

And then, as she passed beneath the center of the hall, she heard them ... the whispers of the Mandrill beginning to spill into the room.

Frantically, Sensei edged backwards on his rear until he was at least a few yards ahead of his pursuer. Closing his eyes, the old man attempted a lotus sitting position and was immediately surrounded by a rose-tinted orb. As its boundary began beating into deeper shades of red, the bubble started to levitate.

Ron did not pause; he continued walking evenly, steadily toward his target. Once he was within two feet of the floating sphere, he drew back his sword.

"Ron, stop!" Kim futilely cried as she got between her best friend and his target. She refused to look at the blade and kept her gaze fixed on his glowing, unseeing eyes.

"Aaaah!" Kim yelled as she was rudely pushed aside as the adversaries' boundaries collided.

After tumbling to a stop some twenty feet away, Kim looked up from the floor to see Ron's blade pierce the orb, missing Sensei's head by several inches. Instead of popping, like a bubble, the orb began to deflate like a tire. Once its sagging, flaccid surface met Sensei's forehead, his eyes sprang open and he began to flail within the shrinking and then descending object. It vanished the second it made contact with the floor, dropping the old man a painful half-foot distance.

With swift cruelty, Ron shoved Sensei flat against the stones with his left foot.

Kim caught her breath, fearing the inevitability of Ron's next move.

But it didn't happen.

Slowly, Ron brought his weapon to his side and then turned to look behind his shoulder. As he did, Kim could see that his eyes were normal once more.

"What … what is this?" Ron asked, taking a step back from Sensei.

For a second Kim assumed that Ron could now hear the mutterings of the giant idol in the tower. In the last few moments, while she had been occupied with Ron and Sensei's confrontation, they had grown significantly louder.

However, Ron wasn't glancing to the ceiling for the source of the malevolent whispers; he was looking at the floor. At the monkey idol that Sensei had tripped over moments earlier.

VI.

"Why hasn't this been destroyed?" The emptiness in his voice made Ron's question sound like it was directed to himself or perhaps aimed at the hall rather than to Sensei.

The old man, who had struggled to a sitting position by this time, said nothing. Nor did he look at Ron.

"I-I took this from that temple in China." A vulnerability entered Ron's voice as he spoke, "That was ... _two years ago_."

The surprise and disappointment evident in these last few words made it all clear to Kim. She now felt certain of what Ron had been doing for Sensei the past several years.

Ron turned and noticed the other monkey idol standing upright in the center of the hall. He averted his eyes from it quickly only to have them fall upon the simian menagerie arrayed beneath Sensei's opulent canopy at the rear of the room.

"I thought these were a threat." Ron said shaking his head at the idols. "I thought I was supposed to collect them so you could destroy them." Although his voice was suffused with hopelessness, Kim noticed Ron's hand clench tighter upon the blade's handle. "I thought we were preserving Honor," he continued, "and ridding the world of dark forces so ..." he sighed. "So no one could become another Monkey Fist."

He covered his face with a weary left hand. "Why did you keep _these_?" he said through his splayed fingers. Then he swallowed, dropped his hand, and without turning asked in a hard voice, "Sensei, did you keep them _all_?"

In the long pause that followed, Sensei climbed to his feet and took a few tentative steps toward Ron.

Ron spun quickly about and glared at his former teacher with phosphorescent fury. " _WHAT OTHER LIES HAVE YOU TOLD ME?!_ "

Sensei stayed on his feet, but he was trembling. Badly. Every few seconds, he opened his mouth only to close it again. Finally, he was able to make his mouth produce some kind of sound, but whatever he was trying to say could not be overheard above the chattering of his teeth.

Kim felt a violent wave of anxiety roil within her stomach. What would Sensei say if he could make himself heard?

Ron released the old man from his stare and looked back toward the canopy.

Then Kim saw Ron's shoulders dramatically sag. Within an instant all the rage left his body.

"Th-that headless one," he said finally. "I took that," he then turned abruptly to face his former master and corrected harshly, "No, I _stole_ that from Middleton, Sensei."

The shock of learning that the body of the _Tempus Semia_ had been taken from her hometown was overwhelmed by the fatal desperation in her best friend's voice.

"The Tri-City Museum is only a few miles from my house, Sensei," Ron continued. "But you said that this-this headless monkey-posed so great a danger that I had to bring it right back here. I couldn't even spare five minutes to visit my folks ... my dad."

_Oh no, Ron. Don't tell me ..._

"I saw him again soon enough, I guess." Although Ron spoke without feeling, his eyes seemed to deepen in his head with each word.

"Stoppable-san," Sensei said suddenly, quickly. "Please understand. That idol, it has a power. A power that-"

Sensei's words and the rising cacophony from the Mandrill were cut dead by a deafening shriek from the lotus blade. An azure tongue of flame ripped across the hall and erupted in a piercing, cerulean explosion beneath the old master's canopy.

"No," Ron hissed as the dust that had been the _Tempus Semia'_ s lower half shifted through a shaft of morning sunlight, "it _doesn't_."

Sensei reacted as if he had been struck in the face. He moaned and then crumbled to the floor. As he did so, his back knocked the candle holder. This time, however, it toppled and fell. Before the candle had a chance to roll six inches across the burgundy carpet, its flame lit the fabric.

A tangle of emotions swept through Kim. Although she took great satisfaction in Ron's verbal attack upon Sensei and felt immediate relief at the idol's destruction, these feeling were quickly replaced by a mounting sense of dread as she watched the flames grow. Things were beginning to spiral out of anyone's control.

The fire quickly ate its way across three carpets and began climbing one of the flowing curtains to the ceiling. The whispers from overhead had returned as angry howls painfully assaulting her ears. It sounded to Kim as if the statue itself were screaming. However, these screams were only audible in the brief pauses between Ron's shattering volleys.

The sword's mystical glow now encompassed Ron's entire body. As he swung his right arm mechanically, blue flames arched from his weapon across the hall and atomized whatever statues they reached.

For a long moment or two, Kim could only stare with a peculiar sense of detachment as the events unfolded before her. Finally, she shook herself from the daze and sprinted toward her friend. Knowing that she was useless to Ron in her state could not override the compulsion to do _something_. The unlikely possibility that the magic flowing from the blade might allow him to see or hear her flashed across her mind. But when she reached him and met his eyes, _all_ her hope vanished.

Ron's face was a pale, featureless mask, and his eyes were as dark and pitiless as stones.

VII.

The flames ran along the entire left wall of the chamber, exposing the bare stones hidden beneath the quickly vanishing curtains. Burning scraps of fabric floated about like smoldering insects. Smoke swarmed across the ceiling and billowed out of every open window. The hall was filled with the Mandrill's inhuman cries.

Ron had decimated every idol to dust, yet he continued his attack, now on the building itself. As the fabric of the canopy burned to ash, the wood of the structure became so hot that it glowed. A few of the strikes had hit the mural located directly behind what had been Sensei's privileged seat of Honor. Its paint started to ripple, bubble and either flake into the air or slide to the floor.

Even with the shutters flung open, smoke was steadily filling the room. The clanging of another candle holder smashing to the ground followed by a violent cough alerted Kim to Sensei's blind retreat from the hall. She turned in time to see him crawling through the quickly shrinking patch of daylight at the main entrance. Ron was now all alone.

"Honey," Kim said as she drew close to him. The keening caused her to wince and shrink back. "Honey, you've done enough. It's time to go."

Ron's eyes stared straight ahead and his arm continued its repetitive, unyielding motion. The smoke was growing thicker, yet he seemed as oblivious to it as he was to Kim.

"Please!" Kim cried. She edged into his keening and yelled as loudly as she could. "Go! Go! What are you doing, Ron?!" She gave the mural an unfocused glance and noticed a streak or a vein of blue running across the stones where Ron was aiming his strikes. When she turned back, she could barely make him out. "Mari"-the smoke was even bothering Kim to a degree-"Mariko!" she cried to him.

Not a cough, not a sound came from Ron as the all-consuming smoke swallowed his figure. Even his blue aura faded from view.

"Mariko loves you!" Kim screamed.

Suddenly, a brilliant blue light burned through the smoke on her left. It hurt to look at directly, but, after a second or two, Kim could make out its source. It was bleeding through a crack in the rear wall at the spot where Ron had been sending his blasts. She watched as the remnants of the mural on either side of the large fissure liquefied and slid to the floor. Then, several smaller fractures broke off from the main crack and flowed upward toward the ceiling as if seeking out some target. Once there, they branched across its surface like tributaries, like veins in a leaf, spreading over her head and running through the immeasurable smoky distance far behind her. A thought flashed through Kim's mind that they were headed toward the tower and the Mandrill. When she turned back toward the fountainhead, the radiance was blinding. She covered her eyes and above the swirling din of unpleasant noises all around her heard a faint, yet sharp, creaking noise. It sounded for all the world like the opening of a heavy door-a stone door on the side of a mountain.

And then she was airborne, and the world was reduced to a shattering sound held within a maelstrom of ash.

VIII.

When she finally came to rest, her initial thoughts were of Mariko drawing her strange Old Maid cards, young Ron plugging in his little oven, and Justin playing hide-n-seek with Rufus while wearing Ron's oversized jersey. Her first assumption as she lifted herself from the floor was that time had ceased and everything had come to a full stop.

Then the soot-filled void grew brighter. Kim looked toward the new light source and made out a vague orange sphere through the smoke. It was steadily increasing in size. As it did so, its surface become more distinct, more detailed. She blinked and shook her head, but her second glances only confirmed her first impressions. It reminded her of a picture in her father's first office at the Space Center and a video she had seen in sixth grade. The ever expanding object resembled the molten surface of the sun.

A solitary figure, outlined in cerulean, appeared beneath the orb and gave it a proper sense of proportion. The heat from the sphere dissipated the smoke and revealed that Kim was still within the pagoda's great hall. The sphere was a bulging dome of melting rock from the hall's ceiling, and the approaching figure was her best friend.

Ron strode toward her position with unhurried, confident steps. She glanced around and realized she had come to rest a few feet to the left of the main entrance. She looked back to the center of the hall as the bulging dome split in two and its crumbling hemispheres tumbled to the floor.

Even as Kim began to stumble to her feet, she could not take her eyes away. She watched the Mandrill fall, as if in slow motion, through the open cavity. The idol landed at a sharp angle on its right forehand, and as it did so, its mutable, onyx surface shattered into a thousand pieces. At the moment of impact, the six jewels erupted from its eye sockets, spinning like burning marbles ahead of the bouncing chunks of stone and idol that were hurtling across the floor. The idol's skin sloughed away revealing the yellowing bones of an enormous, long-dead ape. The bones clattered against one another into a vibrating, hissing heap.

More deafening than the falling and splintering stones was the sudden vacuum of sound as the whispers of the Mandrill were silenced forever.

Kim finally turned to run when she saw one of the Eyes of Mandrill ricocheting toward her. Despite her quick reaction, it struck her thigh and sent her cart-wheeling out of the temple's entrance.

Even before the pains had ebbed from her body, she felt the warm tentative fingers of Mariko touch her wrist and stroke her cheek.

"Rufina!" the little girl cried. "A-are you okay? Where's my daddy?"

Kim sat up quickly and looked behind the child toward the pagoda's entrance. She saw Ron, still glowing, exit the temple mere feet ahead of a swirling cloud of debris and ash. He looked unharmed, but he also didn't look like the little girl's father. His face was still blank, still inhuman.

"Sweetheart," Kim said taking the little girl's face in her both her hands. "He's okay, but I need, need, _need_ you to listen to me right now."

"Uh-huh," the child said, turning her head slightly so she could see whatever her friend had just been staring at.

"Look at me!" Kim yelled fiercely. The resulting shock gave Kim enough time to swallow the child in a full, tight embrace. She kept her friend's head flat against her sternum and used her legs to keep the girl from squirming out of her grasp.

"Rufina!" Mariko cried in confused, frightened despair. "What happened to my daddy?! Let me go!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she whispered as soothingly as she could. "He's fine, but you can't see him now. Please trust me, please!" Kim could hear the child's muffled whimpers and feel her tears as they dampened the front of her shirt.

"It'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll be okay," she whispered over and over.

But she knew it would not be.

IX.

Ron was blind to everything but his target.

He did not see the figure of Yamamoto-san approach him and then, sensibly, slowly back out of his path.

He did not feel the heat from the blistering eye of the Mandrill in the grass as he stepped upon it. Nor did he feel the release of pressure as his foot crushed the jewel to shimmering powder.

He did not acknowledge the soft crying of his daughter coming from somewhere vaguely to his left.

Almost as if he were in a long tunnel, Ron Stoppable only had eyes for the journey's end. And at the end of this tunnel there was only his target, an old man cowering pathetically behind a bush.

There was no light waiting for Ron; this tunnel was blind. What light there was emanated from his person and from his weapon.

He could sense the crackling of the air about his head; he inwardly smiled as the angry chittering of spectral monkeys filled his ears and blurred his thoughts.

X.

Kim was holding so tightly onto Mariko that her fingers were growing numb. She watched helplessly as Ron marched past them, advancing toward Sensei who had scurried on his hands and knees behind a line of small bushes to the far right of the pagoda's entrance.

And then the disturbing cries began. Higher in pitch and more aggressive in tone then the insidious mutterings that had radiated from the Mandrill, they horrified Kim. Not the least reason for her disquiet was the fact they were emanating from her best friend.

For his part, Sensei had abandoned whatever wealth of ninjitsu skills and wisdom he might have accumulated over his advanced years. He was so out of control with fear that Ron would have to be blind and deaf not to find him.

Kim knew it was only a matter of time.

"What's that s-sound?" Mariko asked in a quaking voice.

_Oh my God!_

Kim looked to Yamamoto-san, standing several yards behind Ron. The teacher's eyes were darkening with dread.

_Can he hear them, too?_

"R-rufina!" Mariko cried desperately.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Mariko," Kim said quickly as the child wept. "I don't know what it is-please, it'll be-"

Before she could finish saying what she knew would be a lie, Ron halted abruptly.

From behind, she watched him unsheathe his weapon and calmly aim it directly at Sensei's hiding place. The blade doubled in length and then tripled. Within seconds, it closed the distance between its owner and the bushes that hid the old man. Its impossibly sharp tip pierced the foliage, and Kim heard Sensei shriek.

"Don't do it, Ron!" she screamed, dropping her head sharply, so she wouldn't have to witness any more.

A sharp pain coursed through Kim's tongue as her jaw collided with Mariko's rising head.

"Stop, Daddy, please!" the little girl yelled hoarsely.

The spectral chittering stopped.

Blinking her eyes clear, Kim watched Ron's shoulders slump and his head turn slowly in their direction.

And it was _his_ face, not a mask, which gazed at the place where his little girl crouched in tears.

A moment later, he turned back toward Sensei. He lifted the ridiculously long sword from the bush. As he did so, Kim was relieved to see that its point was clean, not marked with blood. She held her breath as the sharpened edge grew dull and rounded. The sword seemed to be transforming into what looked to Kim like a cane.

Then Ron swiftly brought the lotus cane down on Sensei.

A shrill yelp of pain echoed in the silence. And then the morning air was filled with the old man's childish tears.

XI.

Returning the lotus blade to its usual form, Ron shouted over his former master's whimpering, "Sensei!"

He angrily repeated the word before the old man's lamentations paused.

"Next time you see Hirotaka," he yelled, "you can tell him that he's dishonored his sister's memory. I didn't get the chance before I kicked his ass this morning."

Ron turned to Mariko. She was still crouched near the ground, weeping. He hurried to her and placed his hand gently upon her back. However, the instant he did so, she began to totter slightly.

He quickly swept her in his arms and rolled her over so that she faced him. He hugged her tightly and was hugged back tightly. "It's okay now, Honey, it's okay," he whispered. He spoke the phrase over and over as he kissed away the fresh tear tracks on her cheeks.

Ron was still speaking softly, and the keening was only just beginning to ebb from her ears, yet Kim heard his next words clearly, distinctly.

"Let's go home."

* * *

 **A/N:** I owe a deep debt of gratitude to whitem (of ff.net fame) for providing me with the invaluable inspiration that became sections V. through VIII.


	22. Ruach

I.

Once it had become clear to both Ron and Yamamoto-san that the blaze within the pagoda had died out and posed no further threat, the two exchanged bows and took leave of one another. Neither the teacher nor the Chosen One paid any heed or attention to the broken man shivering in the bushes.

Marching away from the ruined temple hand-in-hand with his child, Ron paused briefly to pick up a small object in the grass. Once he rubbed the soot from the object against his thigh, Kim realized that it was one of the remaining Eyes of the Mandrill. Casually, Ron placed the jewel within an inner pocket on his gi.

As they walked unhurried through the woods, Kim once or twice stared into the impossibly blue sky. She could clearly hear the high wind in the tops of the trees, blowing steadily to the south. Although the smoke was still quite discernable in the air, its stench was receding rapidly. Like the whimpering figure of the school's former leader, the unpleasant smell was becoming more and more distant with each step they took.

Mariko walked between them, holding fast to her father's right hand and swinging Kim's left.

The words that bounced between the little girl and her father were so cheerful and light that Kim had trouble remembering them only seconds after they were spoken. Once or twice, relief throbbed so intensely within her that she lost her breath and her chest ached.

_Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

"What happened to your hand, daddy?" Mariko asked with sudden concern.

"Huh?" Ron looked down at the torn knuckles on his left hand. "Oh, Yabuki-san must have given me that, I guess," he said breezily. He playfully began swinging his daughter's left arm in beat with how she was swinging her right. After a moment, he smiled deeply. "Man, was _he_ surprised this morning." He winked and squeezed Mariko's hand, "He had _no_ clue that I knew he was tracking me. All thanks to you, Honey."

Mariko pressed Kim's hand tightly and started to skip.

Kim watched the sunlight play along her friend's ebony hair and sighed as another tremor of relief passed through her chest.

Mariko stopped skipping, looked to her father, and asked, mild concern entering her voice, "Daddy, is …?"

"Yes, Honey?" Ron asked.

"Yabuki-san?" the child asked tentatively.

"What about him?"

"Is he a bastard like Sensei?"

Ron stopped dead in his tracks. " _What_ did you just say?"

Kim stopped, too. Confronted by a sensation that had been very familiar in her previous life, deep and utter embarrassment, she-for the first time in a very long while- _wanted_ to disappear.

The two adults' sudden halt nearly cause Mariko who had continued walking to fall backwards.

"Where?" Ron asked, completely stunned. "Where did you hear that word?"

"Uh," Mariko shot Kim a worried look.

Kim bit her bottom lip and quickly tried to think of something.

"What movies did MrsDrP show you again?" Ron was still more confused than angry. "Just _Snow White_ , right?"

"Uh huh," the child nodded.

"I don't remember _that_ word being in it," Ron said, running the film over in his mind as he weighed the possibility. "Not even Grumpy would use that word."

"Is it a bad word?"

"Well," Ron said as they started walking again, "uh, I don't know if it's a 'bad' word, but it isn't something little girls should probably be saying."

"Sorry, daddy."

"No big, Honey." Ron smiled. And then his face grew dark. "Yes," he said with finality.

"Yes?" Mariko asked, giving him and then Kim a puzzled look.

"Yes, they are both bastards." Ron nodded glumly.

They walked on silently for a few moments.

"And stupid ones, too," Ron pronounced with satisfaction.

"Really?" Mariko asked.

"Uh-huh," Ron smiled. "Yamamoto-san told me how you flipped him, and I saw you fly myself. No mystical monkey power, huh?" He shook his head and laughed. "Loooo-sers."

Kim gave Mariko's hand a gentle squeeze, and Mariko gave her one back.

II.

The disappointment Kim felt as Ron led them toward the residence building was severe. During their walk, she had mentally pushed Ron's announcement that he and Mariko were going "home" to the back of her mind and been trying to downplay it. Still, it was impossible to completely repress the sense of hope his words had conveyed. And the pain she was experiencing now that her hopes were dashed proved to be far more intense than she had anticipated.

Becoming very self-conscious, she tried to hide her sadness as much as possible from Mariko. She even tried to convince herself that it was perhaps best if her friends _did_ remain on the mountain.

_There's no way Ron won't be running the school now, and it'll be a wonderful place in no time at all. Spankin', even. Yeah. It'll be fine. It will._

"Are you okay, Rufina?" Mariko asked as they entered the darkened entranceway to the building.

"Yeah," Kim said brightly, "spankin'."

"What's wrong with Rufina?" Ron's voice echoed down the short tunnel.

"I don't know," Mariko's echo replied.

Kim sighed. "I'm disappointed," she admitted as the trio exited the tunnel. "I'll explain later." As she gave her friend's right hand a reassuring squeeze, she noticed that Ron was no longer on the little girl's left.

She looked up and saw him jogging at a swift, easy clip across the cluttered courtyard toward their dwelling.

"Ron?"

Mariko looked up, too. "What's daddy doing?"

Kim shook her head.

They both watched Ron steadily increase his pace as he neared the dwelling's front door.

And then both were struck dumbfounded as he charged through the thin material of the door without stopping.

A beat latter, they sprinted the distance to the door-or the opening where the door had once been, with their hearts racing.

"Daddy?" Mariko asked anxiously through the hole.

"Booyah!" Ron's voice echoed faintly from within.

Mariko stepped through the aperture. A half second later, she stepped back outside and slid the screen open so Kim could follow her. She automatically slid it closed again after her friend stepped through. The sunlight through the gaping hole gave the small room a bright, if surreal, cast.

Although Ron's cry had gone a long way to calming Kim's nerves, she was still majorly confused by what he had just done.

"Oh man," Ron laughed as he entered the main room from the hallway. "I have wanted to do that for _so_ long."

"What?" his daughter asked.

"Walk through one of these walls," Ron smiled. "I used to do it _all_ the time when I first came to Yamanouchi. Your mom thought I was just being silly, but they really were just accidents." His smile grew wistful. "Yeah," he nodded, "but it was still fun."

Then Kim noticed what Ron had in his hands: his case.

_Oh, please, please. Yes._

"Daddy," Mariko asked, glancing from the strangely shaped sunbeam on the floor up to her father, "what's going on?"

"I told you, Honey," Ron said, "we're going home."

"But," the little girl said, still uncomprehending, "Isn't this home?"

"No," Ron shook his head, "It's not. Not anymore."

Kim had only meant to gently touch her friend's shoulder. But by the time her fingertips made contact with the fabric of her friend's kimono, they were trembling.

Mariko looked quickly into her friend's running eyes and then back to her father.

"Bubbe's house?" she asked with widening eyes.

"Yes," Ron nodded, "that's home now."

Mariko squealed, hugged Kim's leg, and then ran to her father.

Her head swirling, Kim tried to maintain her balance and keep the swelling feeling in her chest from overwhelming her as she watched the blurry figures of Ron and Mariko Stoppable embrace in the breaking shadows of what only minutes before had been their cell.

III.

Considering how few possessions they had, it took Ron and Mariko a good deal of time to pack up. This was mostly because of Mariko. After gathering everything that was hers and placing it into a small plain bag, the little girl felt the need to say good-bye to each of the dwelling's rooms.

This made sense to Kim. Even though the rooms were cramped, unfriendly and held nothing but bad memories for Kim, they were where the little girl had spent the vast majority of her life. These cells had been a home to her; there was no way she couldn't miss them.

Yet the majority of her "farewell time" was spent in the living room examining the way the sunlight from the gaping hole in the door played on the floor. A cool breeze rustled through the fabric causing the pool of light's edges to flicker and seem to expand.

"Rufina," Mariko exclaimed.

"Yes, sweetie?" Kim sniffled. Just when she thought she had everything under control, she would find herself crying again.

"You don't have a shadow."

"You're right," Kim smiled. "I guess dead people don't."

"Yeah," Mariko nodded. She reached out and took her friend's hand while looking mesmerized at her solitary shadow outlined in the sun. Then she said softly, "It looks like a flower."

"What does, Punky Monkey?" Ron asked.

"The hole you made, daddy," Mariko said pointing to the floor.

Her father looked to the hole in the door and shaded his eyes with his hand. "Hey, you're right." He stood up and slung their bags over his shoulder. "Mariko?" he asked in a suddenly serious voice.

"Yes, daddy?"

"Would you like," he continued solemnly, "a Punky-Monkey-back ride?"

Kim was laughing as she followed Ron, who was carrying his giggling daughter on his shoulders, through the tear in the door and into the blinding sunlight. A corner edge of the screen brushed her right knee and sent her spinning outside. She landed on her rear a few feet down the walk.

Still laughing, Kim quickly climbed to her feet. Wincing at an unexpected blast of keening, she blinked her eyes against the unremitting glare and realized that Ron and Mariko had been surrounded.

IV.

Kim never would have guessed that the small mountain school counted so many among its honorable children.

People of all ages clogged the heretofore vacant courtyard. The youngest members of the crowd were dressed in school uniforms; the older members were dressed in gis, robes, and kimonos of black, white, and grey. The assembly's sudden appearance was so staggering that the air seemed to be teeming with flowing, unfamiliar faces. Their keening was almost unbearable.

As Kim edged away from the intense noise, she was surprised by how utterly quiet the crowd actually was. Apart from the fluttering of the torn screen in Ron's door, there wasn't a sound. Although she didn't sense violence in the air, the tension was unmistakable. The crowd was anxiously awaiting something.

Kim backed against the wall and looked frantically for her friends. Fortunately, they were easy to find because Mariko was still sitting atop her father's shoulders.

Skirting patches of keening from people who had encroached onto the walk, Kim hurried toward Ron. When she drew near, she placed her outstretched hand in the small of Mariko's back. The little girl turned and gave her a weak grin.

"Chosen One," Yamamoto-san's voice broke the silence, but gently did so. It was barely above a whisper. He emerged from the first few rows of the crowd, still using the branch Mariko had given him as a replacement cane.

"And Stoppable-san," he said with the beginnings of a smile directed at Mariko. He bowed deeply to them.

Given the circumstance, Ron and Mariko returned his bow as deeply as they could. Ron dipped his head just enough so he wouldn't tip over while balancing his daughter, who was also nodding, on his shoulders.

After rising with some difficulty, Ron replied, "Yamamoto-san." His voice held a touch of disconcert; he obviously had not expected the gathering.

"Chosen One," the teacher spoke after a moment's silence, "you and your child have been dishonored. And this insult you have suffered has caused you to reconsider your destiny. Is this so?"

"Yes, Yamamoto-san," Ron answered evenly, "we are leaving Yamanouchi."

There were no gasps, sighs, or any noticeable reaction from the crowd to Ron's announcement. Only more silence. A cloud's shadow floated slowly across the courtyard.

"Only the Chosen One can determine his destiny," Yamamoto-san stated finally with an air of resignation.

Kim released an anxious breath that she had not realized she was holding.

"Yet," Yamamoto-san disrupted the silence.

 _Okay, that was_ so _not cool._

"The path of one's destiny may change, may alter," he continued, "without changing one's destination."

Ron didn't say anything. He merely stood perfectly still, apparently weighing the older man's offer to stay at the school.

_No, Ron. Please. You and Mariko don't belong here. Please, please go!_

Finally, Yamamoto-san shook his head and broke the pregnant silence with a sigh. "Will you please stay?" he asked plaintively. "Things will be different."

"Ooooh," Ron said as the meaning of the teacher's aphorism finally dawned on him.

This unexpected display of classic Ron-ness nearly caused Kim to forget herself and scream at him.

"No," he said with some sadness, "I'm sorry, but I can't."

_Ron Stoppable! Don't you ever do that to me again!_

The teacher nodded. "As the Chosen One is so fond of saying," he said as a smile creased his face, and he held out his fist. "No big."

Ron returned Yamamoto-san's smile and gave him a knuckle bump.

V.

Kim stuck closely to Ron and Mariko. Thanks to the generous space that opened for the Chosen One as he made his way through the crowd, the keening from the Yamanouchi students was at a low, bearable level. Despite the elation of the moment, she couldn't help feeling regret as she caught sight of the young eyes intermixed within the sea of faces passing by on both sides. She had never seen before; they were people she would never know. Still, something gnawed at her about the prospect of Ron leaving … of him leaving _them_ behind at the school.

_But that's impossible! He can't take them with him. Besides, things will be better now that Sensei's no longer in charge._

She felt confident of Yamamoto-san's promise that things would be "different," but, still, something didn't feel right. She _knew_ that not every one of these faces would have chosen the destiny of becoming a ninja. Especially if they had ever suspected that their destiny was something they might choose for themselves in the first place.

Suddenly, Kim felt an aura of keening crackle from behind her. She deftly stepped aside just as Rina ran up to Ron and reached out to tug the back of Mariko's kimono.

Kim's initial reaction to embrace the girl was not precluded by the obvious fact that she was unable to do so; rather, it was the shame she felt as she recalled the thoughts she had harbored against the girl only hours earlier.

"Mariko-chan, good-bye, Mariko-chan," Rina said, wiping her left cheek.

"Rina!" Mariko cried excitedly turning her head left, right and then left again trying to get a better look at her friend. Ron stopped and turned around, so his little girl could speak to the older girl face to face. "I am going to miss you so, so much!" Mariko said. "Oh! And thank you for taking me to play with Yamamoto-san-it was a lot of fun."

The young girl smiled and nodded. She then stood silently for a moment as if she was trying hard to think of what else to say. Or perhaps, Kim thought, she was merely trying to control her tears. Finally, Rina bowed before the Chosen One and his daughter.

Kim stood to the side. Instead of betraying Mariko to Hirotaka, Rina had defied the ninja and in so doing had turned her back on a lifetime of indoctrination. She had knowingly risked her honor and perhaps her life to save an innocent. Although Kim had also risked her life to save someone when she was twelve, she couldn't help but see the Paisley rescue mission as a very pale shadow of what Rina had done. Not the least reason being that she had had Ron to encourage her and to have her back.

Rina was alone. And had always been alone.

_Rina, I'm sorry. Thank you. Thank you so very, very much._

Kim's vision of the slight girl in the school uniform bowing to her best friends grew soft as she realized that in all likelihood Rina would always be alone.

"Hey, Rina," Ron asked thoughtfully.

"Y-yes, Stoppable-san," the girl answered without rising.

"I was just thinking," he hesitated. "Would-would you like to come with us?"

Rina stood straight up immediately. "St-stoppable-san?"

"Oh yes!" Mariko said happily, flashing a smile toward the girl and then to Kim, "Would you like to come live at Bubbe's house, too, Rina?"

"Well, Honey," Ron said looking up at his daughter, "she wouldn't be able to live at Bubbe's house … at least not forever." A furrow formed between Ron's eyes. Apparently, he was just realizing at that moment how complicated his magnanimous gesture might become. But, he blinked away this consternation and asked again, "Rina would you like to come with us? Would you like to live somewhere else?"

Kim reflected that she had never seen the young girl look smaller or more afraid. Yet even before Kim could think of something positive to channel the adolescent's way, Rina hesitantly nodded.

Ron smiled and then shot a look back into the crowd. "Hey, Yamamoto-san, is there a problem if Rina comes with us?"

"The power to choose one's destiny is not one solely possessed by the Chosen One." Yamamoto-san pronounced evenly as he appeared five feet to the right of Kim.

His sudden appearance from an unexpected direction made Kim, Mariko, and Rina start, but had no discernable effect upon Ron. He only nodded at the teacher's words and then asked slowly, "What if more students wanted to choose their destinies?"

Yamamoto-san bent his head and spoke to the ground. "Although this teaching has not always been stressed at Yamanouchi, I have always felt that it is true that there are several paths one can take to reach honor." He looked up at Ron. "And not all of those paths run across this mountain."

Ron smiled and then shouted across the courtyard. "You heard the man, who wants to come with us?"

As Kim looked anxiously over the sea of eyes that were now universally pointed at her best friend, the expression she read in the vast majority of them was one of confusion. It was almost as if he had asked the question in a language so archaic that it was not taught in Yamamoto-san's classes. Then confusion became impassiveness and most of the eyes glazed over in blank stares.

Yet, Kim also registered pairs of eyes that did not dim, but rather colored with hope.

Over the next few minutes, hope became courage, and Kim happily stepped further and further out of her friends' immediate orbit as six children stepped forward to join the small circle of pilgrims.

VI.

The first half of the journey down the mountain left Kim emotionally drained. As it began, she was too excited to be genuinely happy. When they reached the ridiculously dangerous suspension bridge that extended over the chasm that cut Yamanouchi off from the rest of mankind, she realized that she couldn't remember passing through the school's front gate. They most definitely had marched through it, but the nervous chatter and laughter from Mariko and the six other children had created such a disorienting din, especially when it merged with each of the latter's on-again-off-again keening, that Kim had completely missed the long-anticipated exit from the school.

_No big. So doesn't matter._

She smiled and then ruefully reflected that it was highly unlikely that such distractions would make the long walk over that horrible bridge as easy to ignore. However, she felt some additional agitation as well. Its cause was something just below her mind's surface. Kim knew she could speak its name if she thought about the feeling for any period of time, but she was reluctant to do so.

"Punky Monkey," Ron said as he stopped before the bridge, "you'll have to get off daddy's shoulders now."

"What's wrong?" Mariko asked as he placed her on her feet.

"Nothing, Honey," Ron shook his head, "I just HATE this bridge."

Ron unsheathed the lotus blade, kneeled down, and placed the edge of the gently pulsing sword upon the first plank of the rickety bridge. The resulting transformation was so immediate that the children barely had a chance to marvel at the ornate superstructure of the thoroughly modern bridge that appeared before them. In fact the moving sidewalk that made up its floor had already begun to carry them all across before Rina and the smallest boy even realized that anything had happened. Kim jumped onto the moving surface and within a few quick steps was standing besides an awe-struck, beaming Mariko.

"Wow!" the girl cried. She looked at Kim, "My daddy made this," she said gesturing all about her. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes," Kim replied with a wistful grin. "Your daddy's always had his moments."

Ron was the last to step onto the bridge and serenely watched the others enjoy their peaceful rides. Once everyone was off, he kneeled and stretched out his hand at a spot above where the moving sidewalk ended. The bridge returned to its original perilous incarnation, and the lotus blade appeared back in his right palm.

Ron lead the way as Kim took up the party's rear.

Once they made it through the tall pine forest and reached the desolate rocky path that wound about the outgrowths of shale and granite, Kim realized the source of the vague agitation she had been feeling.

The Samurians.

The small party was approaching the spot where she had first encountered Hirotaka's simian mercenaries. Would one be standing guard like on the night they arrived? More than one? And what would she do? What _could_ she do if that was so?

 _I'll tell Mariko._ She told herself grimly. _And she'll tell Ron._

The lotus blade had made short work of the Mandrill; certainly, those nit-infested ghost warriors would be no match for Ron's powers. Or so she hoped.

Fortunately, Ron's powers were not put to such a test. The field of shale, looking much smaller under the blue sky than it had under the stars on the night of their arrival, was thankfully free of anything simian.

Still, Kim couldn't shake the anxiety that her concerns had produced. As the path slanted downward and meandered through sharp boulders and edged even sharper drop-offs, she caught herself eyeing every encroaching blind spot and trying to listen over the ever-present keening of the children for a sound that might foreshadow an ambush. Things only got worse as they passed the point where she had reunited with Ron and Mariko so many weeks earlier. Although the path had become wider and traversed much easier terrain, its unfamiliarity spooked her.

And she wasn't alone with her anxiety.

More than once, Kim had seen Rina shoot an anxious look behind her as she clutched onto Mariko's small hand. Was the girl thinking of how she had betrayed Sensei and Hirotaka and how they might seek revenge?

Certainly, neither Ron nor Yamamoto-san saw Sensei as a threat. Yet what about Hirotaka? Ron had defeated the ninja that morning, but how long would he be out of commission?

_Stop it, Possible! How is any of this helping?_

As they entered a dark bend in the path, Mariko turned and frenetically waved to Kim.

Giving the wood's green shadows wary looks, Kim drew even with the little girl and asked, "What is it, sweetie?"

"Do you know what these woods remind me of, Rufina?"

"What?" Kim whispered back.

"The woods in _Snow White_."

Kim looked at the tangled trees on either side of the path and nodded her head. She could understand why the little girl might be reminded of those frightening trees that the forsaken princess had imagined were reaching out with crooked branches to grasp and clutch her.

"If there's a dwarfs' cottage in these woods, too," Mariko continued, "do you think daddy will let us stop and play with them?"

Kim looked down at her friend's questioning, yet undeniably happy, expression.

_You are such an idiot, Possible._

Kim gave Mariko a wink and told her that she didn't know. "We'll just have to ask your daddy," she explained breezily, "if we see one."

"I'll look for one on the right side of the path," Mariko nodded with determination, "will you look on the left?"

"I sure will," Kim said as she ran the back of her free hand across the child's cheek.

When she gazed back to the woods, she felt the breeze wafting through the lush spring vegetation and could see that whatever darkness the crooked trees might have made was being dispersed by sunbeams into patches of cool, welcoming shade.

The party stopped at a swift brook that ran parallel to the path for a hundred feet or so. After everyone had a drink, they sat in the grass and listened to the wind and the insects in the trees.

After a few moments when no one spoke, Ron climbed his feet and yawned. "You know what I forgot, Punky Monkey," he asked looking down at his child.

"What, daddy?"

Ron sprang at his daughter, snatched her from the ground and tossed her high into the air. "To finish your _Punky-monkey-ride!_ "

Her squeal echoed through the dense forest.

"Ron!" Kim cried sternly as he caught his little girl and began to tickle her vigorously to the amusement of the others.

_Some ninja! What are you doing, Ron? Don't you want to escape Yamanouchi?!_

And then Kim realized. They _weren't_ escaping Yamanouchi. They had been free to leave. No one was chasing them. No one was trying to stop them. And even if someone was ... Ron was the Chosen One. He had their backs.

_Everything's going to be all right._

When she had begun this thought, she had posed it hopefully, but as she completed it, it had become a firm statement of belief.

Mariko was again riding her father's shoulders as they began the last leg of the journey. Kim was no longer securing the party's rear. Instead, she was a good dozen feet ahead of them, walking on her hands, performing back flips, somersaults, handsprings and all of the other gymnastic tricks she had employed as a Middleton Varsity Cheerleader to the giggling delight of her best friend's little girl. The child's laughter flowed ahead of them down the path and its echoes followed in their wake as the small party safely completed its journey off the mountain.

VII.

Kim's feet rested upon two of the handful of clear spaces on the long counter. The rest of its surface was crammed with baubles and curios. If she could have stood up straight, she would have been able to maintain her balance with much more ease. And, certainly, that would have been a much more comfortable position altogether. However, the low, slanting ceiling of the tiny shop prevented that. She held precariously onto a nearby awning for support and wondered if she had ever been happier.

She was sure that she had been. But as the events unfolded beneath her, she had difficulty focusing on anything from the past.

Although there were only nine other people in the store, including the shopkeeper, the narrow aisle and a half of floor space made it impossible for Kim to stay at ground level. Not only was the keening overwhelming, but the excited, unpredictable movements of the children made it very likely that she would soon find herself bouncing around the interior of the small building. As she shifted her footing upon the counter, Kim realized that this small shop at the foot of the mountain must have been where the school's mail was routed.

The shopkeeper's expression seemed genuinely unimpressed by the invasion of the ninja and his eight young charges. As Ron approached him, he took Mariko from his shoulders and sat her on a clear patch of counter before the laconic owner.

"Your Japanese is so much better than mine, Honey," Ron explained. "Could you ask him if I could borrow their phone?"

Mariko nodded and asked the question in what Kim heard as English but understood to be Japanese. The shopkeeper's reply was brief.

"Is it going to be a local call, daddy?" Mariko said looking back to her father.

He shook his head. "Sorry, it's going to be to the United States."

Mariko told the owner. His second reply was even briefer than his first.

"Do we have any money, daddy?"

Ron frowned, but then his face brightened. "Just a sec!" His right hand fumbled within his gi. Finally, he removed a small object Kim couldn't see. After he rubbed it vigorously against the leg of his outfit, he slapped the dull, soot-smudged Eye of the Mandrill on the countertop.

The owner studied the gem for a few seconds, snatched it up quickly, and tossed Ron his cell phone. He then stepped far down the counter to give his customers some privacy.

Ron opened the flip and stumbled over the interface for a moment. "Man," he groused, "these things sure have changed in the last seven years."

Kim shook her head at the memory of how un-adept Ron had been with the cell phone he had in high school, an ancient model he had inherited from his father-it didn't even have a camera. There was no limit to how lost he would be with this model.

"Oh, shoot!" Ron cried. "I think I dialed Kim's number by mistake."

The flurry of emotions his statement caused her was quickly superseded by the pulse of stronger ones as her father's voice suddenly echoed within the tiny shop.

"Possible residence."

"Whoa!" Ron yelled, "I've got it on speaker."

"Ronald? Is that you?" James Possible's rising voice asked. "Where are you? I can't make you out."

"Huh?" Ron asked, pulling the phone further away from his face.

"Oh, there you are," James's video image on the small screen announced pleasantly. "Where are you, Ronald? I didn't think you had a phone at Yamanouchi."

Suddenly seeing her father's face was a bit of a shock for Kim. He still looked old, but the surprised in his voice made him seem younger.

"No, I don't," Ron explained. He looked the phone's screen over, "Hey, that is pretty badical." He shook his head, "Anyway, MrDrP, I'm sorry for bugging you; I was actually trying to call my mom."

"It's no problem, Ron," the newly re-christened MrDrP said happily. "Funny, thing, your mom was just here. She and Ann just went to the store. She's going to have dinner over at our place tonight. I could try calling them."

"Yeah, that would be great, MrDrP."

"Shoot," James grumbled mildly. "Ann left her phone here, and I don't believe I know what your mom's cell number is."

"I don't, either," Ron said. "But, actually, now that I think about it, I need to talk to you, too."

"Certainly, fire away."

"Could, um, could I borrow some of Kim's money," he asked in a low voice.

"Ronald," James replied sternly, "We've discussed this. It's _your_ money, so, yes, you can _have_ as much as you need."

"Well," Ron sighed with a mixture of embarrassment and relief, "I really don't know how much I need. How much does a plane ticket cost nowadays?"

"Oh? You're coming back? Outstanding! Is Mariko coming too?"

"Yes," Mariko spoke tentatively at MrDrP's picture. She had been gazing up in silent, confused awe at the image of Kim's dad to that point in the conversation. "We're all coming back!"

"Hello, Mariko!" James called. "How are you doing?"

"Ah man, I guess I'm going to need nine tickets, MrDrP," Ron said after quickly counting and recounting everyone.

"Really, Ron? Who are all of these people?" James asked in pleasant surprise.

"It's a long story, MrDrP," Ron shook his head, and then smiled. "But it's a good one."

"Well, I'm eager to hear it." James rapped his forehead suddenly. "What am I thinking? Why don't I just call Wade and get the boys to give you all a lift?"

"Really?"

"Sure. I think he mentioned they had some scuttlebutt to remedy in Hong Kong today-they could just pick you up on the way home."

"Wow. That would really be great, MrDrP."

"Okay, just stay on the line, Ronald," James said with slight distraction, "I'll contact Wade right now and have him pinpoint your position off the GPS in your unit." Only a few seconds after his face disappeared from the screen, James' image reappeared. "Oh! Before I forget, do you want me to give your mom a specific message when I see her or just tell her that you're coming back for a visit?"

"No, MrDrP," Ron said, his voice starting to catch, "Don't tell her we're coming to visit … Tell her that we're coming home."

She couldn't remember when she had started crying, but Kim could feel the tears trickle down her chin and her nose beginning to run. Immediately, she wanted to reassure Mariko that her uncontrollable blubbering was not a bad thing, but she couldn't find her voice. Fortunately, when her eyes cleared for an instant, she saw that her friend was smiling up at her.

VIII.

Kim sat cross-legged on the floor of the rear compartment of Team Possible'spremier transport vehicle whose name she had been both surprised and touched to learn was _The Kimminator_. In the cushioned benches before her slept Mariko, Rina, and the other Yamanouchi escapees. From the cabin at the front of the ship, she could hear the easy, excited talk of her brothers and Ron.

Everything that had happened that day up to and including the reunion with Jim and Tim outside the shop had been so charged with emotion. If she dwelt on any one memory for too long, her chest began to ache and feel like it would to burst. Kim had never been so exhausted and overwrought. Of course, sleep was not possible for her, and she never wanted the day to end.

As she watched Mariko sleeping in Rina's lap and heard the child's snores echo seemingly through the very framework of the ship, Kim's biggest fear rose before her.

On more than one occasion, she had asked God not to end her second life before she could rescue her best friend and his daughter from that horrible school. Through luck, her own small actions, and metaphysical guidance of a nature she could not understand, Ron and Mariko had been saved. The first half of the bargain, if indeed one had been struck, had been met.

Kim, certainly, could not have wished for more.

And her second life could end at any moment.

Watching her sleeping friend roll over in the older girl's lap and listening to the faint banter of her best friend and her younger brothers in the distance, Kim was overcome with a vague, odd sensation. She closed her eyes and recalled the sound of the wind brushing through the high tops of the trees upon the mountain. And she saw the warm faded lights in the valley far below the school. She heard the wind pick up and watched as the small lights dimmed and were lost within a warm, dark sensation that seemed to fill the expanse of the entire sky. The sound of the wind ceased.

And then Kim Possible opened her eyes.

She was still present.

Afraid to move at first, Kim climbed to her knees and then edged across the floor to Mariko. Once Rina's keening began, she stopped and stretched out her right hand until it touched the little girl's chest. Kim could feel Mariko's heartbeat radiating through her fingertips; she placed her left hand on her own chest and counted the beats. Counted the minutes shared.

Every so often their pulses would sync up. It never lasted very long; maybe a few seconds or so before the child's pulse would outpace her own. Yet, during those brief moments when their heartbeats came together, it was impossible for Kim to tell them apart.

**This ends Book II of "Kim Possible: The End."**

* * *

**A/N:** Although none of the chapter's events were inspired by it, Kenji Mizoguchi's beautiful film _Ugetsu_ definitely informed its tone.


	23. Twenty-one

**Book III**

So if you ever felt something behind you, like welcomed heat, like a bulb,

like a sun, trying to shine right across the universe - it was me.

Always me. It was me. It was me. - Martin Amis, _London Fields_

* * *

I.

He could see her now.

Moments before, he could only discern her voice as she called out to the others on the field hidden behind the school's gym. Their responses to her farewell were too faint and vague for him to hear clearly. Not that it mattered.

From his remote position, he watched as she languidly walked across his line of sight and turned into the distance.

Strange.

This was typically the moment from which he drew the most satisfaction. Yet, he felt instead a compulsion to just get the business over with.

II.

The instant he heard her voice, his mouth went dry. He swallowed a few times and then managed a dry laugh at the futility of his efforts. This was most certainly not a good beginning.

He took a couple of breaths and tried to think of something to do with his hands. Should he shove them in his pockets? Braid his fingers behind his back? If he didn't think of something and soon, he would end up "talking" with them again. For whatever reason, the fingers on both of his hands would begin to drum his thumbs in a rapid asynchronous fashion so that it looked like he was pantomiming a lobster's claws. It was something he only did when he was nervous, and he was only nervous around her. In fact, she was the one that first pointed out that he did it; he had been so nervous he had failed to realize how much of a fool he was acting. She had dubbed his nervous tic as "talking" because she noted that if they had only had a couple of sock puppets handy, he could have put on a show.

His mouth wasn't dry now. Thinking about her laughter put him at ease. She was one of those people who never laughed _at you_ even when they were laughing about something stupid you had done. It was a welcoming laugh that let you off the hook because it gave the impression that you had meant to do whatever it was, that you had been trying to be funny, not foolish.

A flash of blue and orange around the corner of the building. She had stepped around its edge and was a mere ten yards in front of him. His mouth reverted once more to the Sahara.

Fortunately, she had not seen him yet. She was glancing down at her v-phone, perhaps making a call. She stopped walking, slung her backpack off her left shoulder, and pivoted on her right ankle away from him.

 _Man, oh man._ He loved looking at her. Especially at her long legs. And especially in her soccer uniform, even though the shin guards and socks obscured a good deal of her legs from view. He shook his head.

Whenever he happened to be around her when she was wearing shorts or a skirt or something that bared her legs to any degree, he always felt so self-conscious that she was going to catch him ogling her, ogling them. Even now, when she was chatting with someone on the phone with her back to him, he feared she would catch him staring. He made an effort to drag his eyes away, and they settled on an ugly bit of graffiti on the cracked wall. He regarded it vaguely, couldn't even tell which language it was supposed to be in. A few moments later, he looked back to her and took in her entire form.

Although they had upset him when he'd first heard them, he had to agree with some of the unkind things a few guys had said about her. There was definitely more than a touch of the tomboy to her, and her body did give off an awkward vibe. At first.

Well, she was unusually tall for a girl. Heck, she was three inches taller than he was. And she definitely had a laid back, "un-girly" quality to how she carried herself. Yet, these were only superficially correct. The deeper fact was when she walked, charged for a goal, even got in and out of her seat in class, there emanated such a relaxed yet perfect sense of grace from her that it transformed her into an incredible beauty. And, speaking personally, she became the hottest thing on two legs.

 _Shoot._ He was ogling them again. He turned back to stare at the graffiti and felt himself grow impatient for her v-call to end. When he noticed a prolonged silence, he shot her a quick look. She was still on the call; he could see her head nodding to whoever it was on the screen. He wanted to get this over with-the anxiety was killing him.

He forced himself to look back at the graffiti and determine what obscenity it was trying to convey.

Then he heard her tell who-ever-it-was "good-bye."

He exhaled rapidly and clapped his hands together soundlessly.

 _Ick!_ His palms were slick with perspiration. Not knowing what else to do, he used them to slick back his hair.

_Ewww. That was a mistake. Oh well, now or never._

He tried to speak only to find that his tongue had turned to ash. "Ma-" he coughed. "Mariko!"

She turned around. When their eyes met, her face immediately broke into warmth and light. "Yoha, Mankey! What's up?"

III.

"Yes!" Mariko's cry echoed across the southern side of the campus.

Justin's shoulders sagged. He leaned heavily against the wall of the building and watched as his oldest and best friend hugged Sean Mankey.

He was too late. Sean had already asked her to the Spirit Dance.

Justin turned his eyes away so he wouldn't have to witness the rest of their embrace. Not just because it upset him, but because he felt like he was intruding on her happiness even if she didn't know he was there. And it seemed like that was going to last for some time.

 _At least it's Sean. He's a good guy._ Justin struggled to be positive. And Sean _was_ a good guy. Certainly not a bully. In fact, he couldn't recall Sean ever using the dismissive "nickname" that most of his male classmates had called him, at least once, since kindergarten. Sean was friendly. Handsome. And a good singer, too. Someone Mariko deserved.

Justin couldn't hear what they were saying; he didn't want to hear what they were saying. A small red ant meandered in and out of the cracked concrete at his feet. Vaguely, he mused on its unusually languid pace. A cloud moved across the sun, and he found himself gradually covered in shadow.

 _Perfect._ He thought bitterly. _Too perfect._

The strap from his overstuffed backpack started to cut uncomfortably into his shoulder. Instead of readjusting the strap, Justin merely repositioned his shoulder. The strap began to slip; he let it. When the bag landed with a dead thud an instant later, he wondered if she might have heard the noise.

He couldn't hear _them_ anymore. Perhaps, they had walked away together. To his car maybe.

_Stop thinking._

He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands and bit his bottom lip.

He kept his eyes closed and listlessly followed the blue and red shadows that swirled and danced behind his lids.

IV.

The first night Mariko and her father spent in the small ranch house on Jumper Boulevard was the last time Justin had slept over. By coincidence, it was also the occasion of Justin's _second_ mislaid kiss.

Like the rest of his family and the other close friends of the Stoppables, Justin had helped with the move. His "uncles" Jim and Tim and his godfather Wade had also volunteered to assist with some of the heavier items, but, unfortunately, they had been called away on a mission before most of the furniture could be unloaded from the van. Luckily, his dad's robotic wheelchair was more than up to the task. This proved to be quite fortuitous because not five minutes after Team Possible left, storm clouds started rolling across the late summer sky. The cybertronic chair's only difficulty was with squeezing through the new house's rather narrow bedroom doors. However, with everyone's help, all of Mariko and her father's belongings were safely inside before the rain began to fall.

It had been a thoroughly exhausting day, especially for Mariko and Justin.

Justin had neatly and orderly packed up all of Mariko's books and toys and even her clothes. Once he had finished with a box, he would hold down the flaps while she taped it securely closed with a tape gun. Her tape tracks weren't always the straightest and sometimes she would have to apply a second strip to make sure that the flaps were secure and wouldn't flip back open if the boxes got jostled too much on the five block ride to the new house. Then she would lift the box and lug it down the attic stairs and out to the van while Justin started work on the next box.

At one point, Mariko's Bubbe came into the attic and watched them work in silence for a few minutes. Finally, she said, "I sure you wish your father was this industrious when he was nine." Mariko just grinned and shook her head impishly. Justin smiled shyly. "I wish he was this industrious now," she added in a louder voice.

"Hey," Mariko's dad called up the stairwell, "I heard that!"

Both kids laughed.

After a few more silent minutes of watching the children work, Barbara Jo descended the stairs.

"She's really going to miss you being here," Justin said.

"Yeah."

After Mariko had taken the last box down the stairs, Justin went to the small bathroom that had been installed in the attic not long after Mariko and Ron had come back from Japan. When he was finished and began to open the door, he heard his friend's voice. She was speaking in a language he couldn't understand, but it sounded like Japanese. Through the slightly ajar door, he saw her standing in the middle of the room facing away from him. Her head was slightly raised, pointing toward the shaft of light coming through the loft's lone window. He reflected on how strange her window looked now that the curtains had been taken down.

Mariko never minded Justin being around when she was talking to Rufina. In fact, she would speak English whenever the three of them were together and would encourage him to join in the conversation, but only if he wanted. However, Justin always felt like he was intruding in some way and preferred to give Mariko and her friend their privacy. He stepped back into the bathroom and quietly shut the door.

After five minutes he came out and found her sitting cross-legged in the same spot. However, she was now turned to the empty spot on the floor where her bed had once been. As he drew close, he saw her rub her eyes and heard her sniffle.

"Okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just saying good-bye."

"Good-bye?"

"To the room," she explained, looking up with a smile.

Justin sat next to her and leaned over so their shoulders touched. He thought he understood why she felt the need to say farewell to the attic. It had been only the second room she had ever had. No, wait, it was her third.

When she and her father first came back from Japan, she had slept with Li, Takeshi, and Chiyo in her dad's old room. And Rina had slept in the attic room with the smaller children. Justin wondered if Mariko was thinking about those old friends of hers, too. It wasn't like she never got to see them; they were all adopted by families either in Middleton or Upperton. Still, he could understand how much this room and this house meant to her.

She threw her arm around his shoulder and gave him a firm squeeze. He placed his arm around her shoulder and did the same. Gradually, they began swaying back and forth as they held each other. Their bare knees rubbed up against each other and their foreheads touched. And they swayed back and forth until her father's voice found them and called them down for nacos.

That evening, her father had been too exhausted to set up her bed frame and just placed her mattress on top of the box spring. After Justin and she had carried in the last of her boxes from the van, Mariko had hopped on top of the mattress and asked, "Wanna play a game?"

"Sure."

"Let's see who can jump on my bed the most times before falling asleep."

"O-okay."

"What's wrong?"

"Isn't that dangerous?" he asked.

"Not if the bed's flat on the ground." She then called loudly, "Right dad?"

"Huh?" Her father's voice echoed from down the hall. "What's up, punky monkey?"

"It's okay if we jump on the bed-if it's on the floor, right?"

A few instants later, "Oh, yeah, sure. As long as it's on the floor, that's fine."

"See?" She smiled as she helped him onto the mattress between jumps.

They began jumping together. Mariko would count out her jumps in Mississippi's and Justin counted his in Thousand's. However, before she even got to the tenth Mississippi, Mariko announced happily, "You win." And promptly collapsed. Seconds later, her snores were reverberating off the walls of the room.

Afraid to wake her, Justin chose not to put her pillow under her head, but he did cover her up with a blanket. He thought about unpacking a few of her boxes, but when he tried to pull the tape off the first one, she shifted in her bed and moaned unhappily. Justin wondered how she was able to hear anything over her snores.

In the end, he crawled into bed next to her.

A long time after her father had poked his head in the room to tell them goodnight and switch off the light, Justin lay awake. He sat listening to his friend's snores. Between them, his thoughts kept returning to the attic room in her grandmother's house. Thinking about how empty, lonely and quiet it must be at that very moment with no one there made him sad. He also thought about his friend's tearful good-bye to the room and then he thought about her talking with Rufina.

A warm sensation filled his middle and began to flow upwards through his chest. As it did, he felt compelled to sit up, almost as if he were following the sensation's lead or giving it room to expand even further within his chest. He looked over at his sleeping friend's form and listened to her sonorous breathing. The warm sensation had reached his head and was causing a tickling sensation on the back of his tongue. He looked at Mariko's face, just making out her features amongst the blue shadows of the darkened room.

"I love you, Mariko Stoppable."

The anxiety that momentarily seized his chest as he heard his own voice say the words was immediately overwhelmed by the warm, ticklish sensation that was now spreading across his face. Part of him couldn't believe what he was doing, but the rest of his person went with the warm, gentle flow. He bent close to her ear and said it again.

"I love you, Mariko Stoppable."

Then Justin Renton leaned in to kiss his best friend's cheek. At which moment, Mariko shifted and swung her head swiftly towards his. Justin felt his lips brush across her warm, half-open mouth just before his nose painfully collided with hers.

She blinked her eyes clear momentarily, smiled up at him and asked sleepily, "Did ... say something?"

In terror, embarrassment, and sharp pain, Justin quickly lied, "No, no, no. I-I didn't. No."

"Okay." She smiled and turned back over.

In the loneliness of his best friend's new bedroom, Justin Renton futilely wished himself to sleep. Although Mariko was only inches from him and her snores still filled the room, he heard nothing. His ears were filled with his own futile wishes for courage that he knew he didn't possess and probably never would.

V.

_Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz._

Justin listlessly watched his backpack dance in a small circle. He had his v-phone set on vibrate and stuffed deep inside, so its reverberations were causing the overstuffed bag to move ever so slightly across the pavement.

He didn't wonder who was calling him. It had to be his mom or his dad. The only other person who ever called was Mariko. And, obviously, she was busy at the moment. _Too busy for me_.

 _Stop it! Listen to you! You sound like a jerk! Why_ shouldn't _she be happy with Sean? She deserves the best._

"Oh! There you are," Mariko cried from behind his left shoulder.

Justin turned around so quickly that he almost lost his balance.

"I was just calling you," she said, closing her phone and reaching out to steady him with her left hand. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he said quickly, stepping away from her touch and turning toward his suddenly stilled backpack. "I've got something for you," he said without looking up.

He undid the straps, opened the pack, and brought out a DVD case. He cupped it in his left hand and languidly closed the bag and refastened the straps with his right. His motions were precise and efficient. Justin reflected with some annoyance that the only times his hands were ever this steady was when he was trying not to cry.

"I think you've been looking for these," he said as he handed it to her. He still refused to lift his head.

With some hesitation, she took it from him. "Are you sure you're okay, Justy?"

"Yeah." He raised his head quickly, flashed an approximation of a grin. "Just, you know, a little ... tired."

She stared at him with puzzled concern for a moment and then glanced down at what he had given her. "Oh my gosh! You didn't!" she cried.

Although brief, he allowed himself a genuine smile and nodded.

" _World Cup Fu Illustrated: The Ultimate Periodical for the Martial Arts and Football Enthusiast!"_ She read the label with mounting excitement. "But how? This magazine never came out on digital; it went out of print two years before I was born!"

"Well," he said, his cheeks feeling pleasantly warm, "I contacted some guy in Indonesia I know who was able to scan all the copies he had. It was, you know, no big."

"Oh, this is _so_ big," she cried as she embraced him.

From the point where his head made contact with her collarbone, he could just make out the rapid pulse of her heart.

"You're the best!" She planted a warm peck on his forehead and let him go.

She had kissed him hundreds of times during their lives. Yet he had never dared to return the gesture. But, really, how did a guy give a girl a platonic kiss?

Regardless, he couldn't keep from smiling now. Or keep from looking at her. She was so, so happy. In the quixotic elation of the moment, he paradoxically asked the one question he knew could bring nothing good.

"So I saw you with Sean just now. Did he ... you know, the Spirit Dance?"

She looked up quickly from the disk, whose contents panel she was eagerly reading, and nodded, smiling. "Yes, yes, he did!"

Justin immediately looked at his feet and then closed his eyes.

 _Why did you ask her_ that _? Stupid, stupid!_

He felt his fingernails biting into his palms; he was balling his fists. Ever since pre-K that had always been his last method to stave off tears. And it had _never_ worked.

_Don't cry, idiot! She's happy! Why can't you let her be happy?_

Then, unexpectedly, he felt a warm throb somewhere below his stomach. He wondered at this pleasant sensation as he watched the red and blue clouds behind his clenched eyelids swirl. Then when he felt it once more, he noticed that the "clouds" had dissipated into small points of red and blue lights. _Sleepybugs_.

He blinked open his pooling eyes, looked up at his best friend, and said the first crazy thing that came into his mind.

"Can I take you to Homecoming?"

"Huh?" Mariko asked, looking up from the disk.

"Or maybe the Spring Fling, or how about the Prom?" he continued without pause.

She shook her head, giving him a puzzled look.

"He asked you to those too?" His voice dipped, but then he shook the disappointment from him and pushed on. "Well, how about _next_ year's Spirit Dance? I can wait that long."

"Justy," she reached for him, concern on her face. "Slow down. What are you talking about? Are you crying?"

"Yes, I am," he said, not bothering to wipe his cheeks. "But I'm serious, Mariko. If Sean's asked you to all the dances this year, I can wait until next year. No problem."

"Mankey didn't ask me to any dance," she said, looking intently into his eyes.

"He didn't?" he choked. "But didn't you just say ...?"

"He was telling me about _his band_. They won the audition and he's going to be singing a set at the dance. But he didn't ask me to go with him. Maybe he wanted to." She wrinkled her brow. "It _did_ seem like he had something else he wanted to say." She shook her head, "But he didn't."

Justin couldn't say anything for a moment or two. He was on unfamiliar ground and wasn't quite sure how a person should behave when he discovered that his chances and hopes _hadn't_ passed him by.

"Of course." Mariko said brightly.

"I-I'm sorry?" he asked.

"I'd love to go to those dances with you, Justy."

He was really dumbfounded now. Completely out of his depth. And the only thing he could bring his tongue to utter was the word that most people in his position (himself included) would believe to be the very worst thing to say at such a moment.

"Why?"

"Huh?" she replied, giving him a funny, yet gentle, look.

"Why would-why do you want to go with me?"

The silence that followed this question only made Justin more certain that he had ruined everything.

Then Mariko took one of his hands in hers and tilted her head down and to the side so she was looking up into his misery-ridden eyes. "You mean why would I want to go with you if someone like Mankey wanted to go with me?"

"Yeah." He could never avoid her for long; she never let him. "Why?" Deep down he believed-hoped he knew why, but he needed to hear it, needed to know. "I mean, he's so talented and good-looking and everything."

She nodded, never breaking eye contact. "Yes, Mankey is very talented and, yes, he's very good-looking, too."

_Okay, this wasn't what I needed to know._

"But you're brilliant, Justy. I mean, you should be _teaching_ those college courses you're taking in the science wing."

He was going to mumble something self-depreciating, but the sudden touch of her hand on his cheek silenced him.

"And although he's handsome, you're beautiful."

"What?" he reflexively pulled back. "M-me?"

"Yeah," she asserted. "I've always thought so."

_Always?_

"But there's something else, Justy. Something Mankey doesn't have."

"Huh?" Justin was reeling now and barely catching every third word.

"You're brave."

That broke the spell.

"Whoa! What are you talking about, Mariko?" He blinked and looked her hard in the face. _"Who_ are you talking about?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying hard to keep back a smile.

"Brave? Me?" he shook his head. "That's crazy, Mariko! I'm too frightened to raise my hand in class-even to ask to go to the bathroom! It took me two weeks to work up the guts to ask _my cousin_ to come to my seventh birthday party. I jump at my own shadow! Come on, you've seen me do that thousands of times!"

"Justy," she objected, "you haven't done that thousands of times, _hundreds_ maybe."

"Still," he cried. "How could anyone, let alone you, think I was brave?"

"You slept over at my Bubbe's house when we first met." She shrugged.

"Well, ... yeah, but-"

"Even though you were scared of ghosts."

"Okay, but-"

"On a very spooky night."

"No, that ..."

"It was raining really hard and was super windy, I remember."

"But that was nothing. You were leaving the next day, Mariko, and I still wanted to be with you."

"Yes, and I've never forgotten that."

The insidious part of Justin Renton's mind that incessantly tried to puncture or, at least, deflate his happiness whenever it occurred … fell silent. For what seemed a long time, he was only aware of his pulse and the sight of his friend's dirty socks half-way down her shin guards. Then he felt her hands on his shoulders and looked up into her eyes.

"Your fears are what make you so brave, Justy," she explained. "You can only be brave if you're scared first."

Smiling with some effort, he admitted, "Yeah, that, that makes sense."

"Of course," she said. "Rufina doesn't lie."

"Oh!" He smiled effortlessly at the mention of his best friend's imaginary best friend. "You two still talk?"

"Not as often as we used to, but, yeah. We do."

"That's cool."

She nodded and then laughed. "I so can't believe you!"

"What?"

"' _Who_ are you talking about?' You just asked a girl to every dance _until the end of next year,_ and you don't think you're brave!"

"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly, "I guess that was kinda brave."

As she teased him, Justin became progressively aware that he was feeling good and was completely at ease. Again. It was exactly the same way he felt whenever he and Mariko were just hanging out and talking. Would dating be like this, just this natural and easy?

"And on top of everything else, you've seen a real ghost and didn't get scared. Not many people could be that brave-I know I wouldn't be!"

"So," he began, testing his newly discovered courage, "should I pick you up at six on Friday?"

"Well, I'm scheduled at _BF_ 's," she replied. "You know that."

"Huh?" Justin's mental hobgoblin perked up its ears.

"But I'm sure Dad would give me the night off for something special."

He shook his head. "But isn't the dance special?"

"You didn't ask me to _this_ dance, Justin," she replied impishly.

His hobgoblin begrudgingly retreated back into its hole. "You're right." Justin smiled. "I didn't, did I?"

She shook her head, the ends of her black hair gently grazing both cheeks as she leaned in close.

"Mariko, will you-" Justin began before he was interrupted by his best friend's lips.

Like most first kisses, it could not be termed 'graceful,' yet, after the first few awkward moments, it did become natural and easy.

VI.

Eventually, Mariko had to admit that skipping in cleats, especially on the grass, wasn't doable.

 _Shoot! This just isn't going to work,_ she thought as she lifted herself from her knees for the third (or maybe fourth) time. She promptly dropped to her rear in the grass and removed her shoes, shin guards and socks. She tossed the latter two into her soccer bag and picked up the cleats with her right hand. After, of course, she had sniffed at the socks out of habit. _Man, my feet stink!_

She watched the darkening autumn sky change colors for a few moments before climbing back to her feet. Then she began skipping in the grass swath that paralleled the sidewalk that meandered through her neighborhood. Her uncle Wade had borrowed the Sloth for a few days to add some long-promised enhancements, but, even if she had her car this evening, Mariko would have preferred to walk home. As her toes brushed against the spiky yellowing blades of grass and her feet crunched over dead leaves, she had to struggle to keep down the compulsion to sing. If she could be certain no one could hear her, she would have. But she was far too considerate of others to risk it.

_He does … he really does ..._

Spotting a heap of leaves a few yards ahead on the sidewalk, Mariko sprinted from the grass and landed in the center of the pile. As she pushed the scattered leaves into the grass with her giddily shuffling feet, something made her freeze.

For a long second or more, she didn't move. The sensation was like falling, falling inside a dream, almost. It passed quickly. Still, she remained motionless for another minute. Slowly, carefully, she glanced over her shoulder. Some twenty yards behind her was a lamppost. Its amber bulb flickered once or twice and then began to glow. But that was all.

And then everything was as it had been before.

She continued walking home, her pace still easy but languid. As her neighbors' yard lights began switching on, she looked to the sky again. Something in the shifting of the air or perhaps the patterns of the clouds reminded her of Yamanouchi. She frowned at the memory of her lost mother, but was able to shake off its wistfulness as she recalled the peculiar taste of her best friend's kiss.

_Wow. Our first kiss …_

"Well, our first _real_ kiss," she happily corrected, realizing that she had given her best friend hundreds of thousands of kisses during their lives. Of course, this was the first time he had kissed _her_.

_Justy actually kissed me!_

She was no longer responsible for her actions.

"I think I'd like to gooooo back hooooommmme … and taaaake it eeeeeeasyyyyyyy!"

She closed her eyes, nodding her head to the slightly off-tempo beat in her mind.

"There's a woman-I mean, a boy living theeeerrrre that I'd like to get to knoowww."

"Uncle! Uncle!" called a man who was climbing out of his car in the driveway she had just passed.

"Oh!" She turned around. "Sorry 'bout that Mr. Sheridan!"

"Just teasing," he said. "Sounds like someone had a pretty good day."

"Oh, the best!"

"Good to hear."

Mariko contented herself with humming the tune for the remainder of the way home-moving her cleats along her imaginary guitar's frets when the song called for it. As her yard came into view, she was surprised to find it glowing with the light that was emanating from the home's large picture window. Those lights were never turned on unless someone was home, and she knew her father was working at the restaurant at least until six.

Then she saw the red sedan in the drive.

"No leftovers for dinner tonight."

VII.

As Mariko fumbled for her keys at the front door, she heard familiar cries coming from inside.

"Where in the-? How? Arrrgh!"

The cries grew louder as Mariko made her way to the kitchen.

Not wanting to startle her father's girlfriend, Mariko stamped her feet as she walked and otherwise tried to make her presence as obvious as possible. After dumping her soccer bag and backpack on the kitchen floor to no discernable effect, she announced as evenly as she could, "Dr. R?"

"Ahh!" The woman spun around and yelped, a half-empty box of pasta in one hand, a half-eaten, fossilized poptart in the other.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you," Mariko apologized.

Dr. R didn't respond, only stared back at her with a frenzied expression. Mariko wasn't sure if she had genuinely frightened her or if the woman was still so agitated about the dilapidated state of the Stoppable kitchen that she couldn't respond. As Mariko did a quick scan of the room, she noticed that the half-empty cereal boxes, dirty dishes, clean dishes, and various tools that cluttered every surface in the room _did_ seem a degree tidier, or at least more bunched together, than they had been when she left for school that morning.

"Thank goodness," Dr. R said. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were your father." She surveyed her surroundings hopelessly. "And I am nowhere near ready to even _begin_ cooking."

"Nope, just me. Dad's still at the restaurant. What are you cooking?"

"Chicken Cacciatore, one of the few edible things I can make," Dr. R said, putting down the box of pasta and looking for a place to put the half-a-poptart. "I thought I'd surprise you and your dad with a meal cooked by someone else."

"Do you need help?"

"No, no," the woman replied, shaking her head. "You just go do your homework or whatever you need to do. Now that I know I've still got at least an hour to get this place straight and make dinner, I'll be fine."

"I don't have much. What can I do?"

"Well," Dr. R said as she tossed the poptart onto the closed garbage can's lid, "if you could help me find that large skillet, it would be a big help."

"It's not on top of the fridge?"

"No, and it's not under the sink, either. M, I really don't understand how he can live like this!"

Mariko shrugged as she looked behind the fridge to see if the pan had somehow gotten wedged behind it.

"I mean, the restaurant's kitchen," Dr. R continued, "is like an operating room! How can he just let his own turn into such a … _sty_?"

"Bubbe thinks he got it from Zeyde." Mariko tossed the poptart into the garbage and then moved the can so she could root in the cabinet behind it.

"Huh?"

"Well, Zeyde was like this financial whiz at the office, but he always paid their bills like weeks and weeks late."

"Hmm, maybe." Dr. R said, breaking down an empty cereal box.

"Man," Mariko said as she climbed from her knees after checking the floor of the pantry. "It's not in _any_ of the usual places. It might actually be lost." She tapped her bare left foot on the floor a few times. "Wait, I know! Be right back." She ran from the kitchen, threw open the cellar's door and hopped down the wooden stairs into the dark.

"Here you go," she announced, returning a few moments later.

"Thanks," Dr. R said as she took the large and rather odd-looking skillet from her.

"You might want to rinse it out," Mariko advised as she hastily began sorting through the boxes that crowded the table, "but it's clean."

"Is this new?"

"Actually, it's really old," Mariko said off-handedly as she finished consolidating two half-full bags of Cheerios into a single box and then quickly began to break down the extra one.

"What it is made of?" Dr. R asked, turning the skillet over in her hands.

Mariko only shrugged as she continued sorting boxes.

"M, what are you doing?" Dr. R asked as she noticed the girl hurrying to clear the table. "I told you I'd take care of this mess. You go and do whatever it is you need to do."

"It's fine, Dr. R. I usually try to straighten up the kitchen on nights when I get home first. No big."

"Do kids really still say that?" the woman asked absently as she turned her attention back to the pan.

"I'm sorry?"

"'No big.' I mean kids used to say that back when _I_ was in high school. I didn't, but … some did."

"Well, sure." Mariko nodded without turning around. "I mean, some of my friends and I say it all the time."

The sudden clang of the skillet hitting the stovetop made the girl jump and turn around. "Whoa! You okay, Dr. R?"

The woman didn't respond at first, only took a few quick steps back from the stove, or to be more precise, from the pan.

"What's wrong?" Mariko asked.

"That," Dr. R said finally, pointing to the inert piece of cookware. "It's-it's _that sword,_ isn't it?"

"The Lotus Blade?" Mariko answered, confused. "Well, yeah. Is that a problem?"

The doctor spun around. " _'Is that a problem?'_ Are you kidding me? Of course, it is!"

"Why?"

"Mariko, I am _not_ going to make Chicken Cacciatore _with a sword!_ "

"But I turned it into a skillet," Mariko said simply. "It'll be fine."

Dr. R was not convinced.

"Only Daddy and I can transform it into things," Mariko explained. "Once it's set, it can't change again unless we tell it to."

Dr. R shook her head.

"Remember those strawberry banana pancakes Daddy made for your birthday? He cooked them in that."

"M, I just don't think-"

"It'll be chauncy," Mariko reassured her, "trust me."

After a long moment, Dr. R turned and looked Mariko in the eyes. "Okay. On one condition."

"What?"

"If you leave this mess to me."

"But-"

"Mariko, you've been itching to get out of this room for the last ten minutes."

"Well, yeah," Mariko admitted with the beginnings of a smile. "There _was_ something I wanted to do."

Dr. R raised an eyebrow. "Hmmm. Did … something happen today?"

"Yup," Mariko said, "it sure did."

"Really?" Dr. R asked with a grin. "What exactly?"

"I'll tell you at dinner, but right now it's a secret."

"I see. Well, get out of here before I change my mind and make _you_ cook with this thing."

VIII.

In one fluid motion, Mariko locked her bedroom door, tossed her cleats and bags by the jamb, and hopped onto her bed to open the window. Once she had it propped, she pushed back the curtains so they didn't obstruct the opening.

She stuck her head into the darkness, whistled, and then waited.

And waited.

Beginning to worry that this was an "off day," Mariko pulled her head back inside and then sat, cross-legged on the bed so she wasn't facing the window. To preoccupy herself against the anxious buzzes in her chest, she began to check the messages on her v-phone. But before she had gotten to the first one …

"Spill."

Mariko turned to see Kim standing over her on the bed. Her arms were crossed and she had a pleased, yet determined glint in her eyes.

"Uh … what do you mean?" Mariko asked innocently in Japanese.

"Don't play me," Kim said firmly. "I heard you ... singing."

Mariko briefly toyed with the notion of dragging out the innocent act, but realized that her smile was probably making the ruse pointless.

"He," she paused. "He asked me." She beamed.

Kim immediately dropped to her knees and swallowed the girl in a tight embrace.

"Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart! That's so wonderful!" Kim exclaimed. "I knew Justy was going to ask you to the Spirit Dance! I knew it!"

"Well, actually," the girl laughed, "he didn't."

After Mariko explained which _dances_ he had asked her to and why, Kim clapped her hands. "Yes! Way to go, Justy. That's _so_ like him."

"And he had no idea how brave he was," Mariko said. "Even after I told him, he didn't believe me."

Kim smiled. "Just like your dad." And then she gestured to the v-phone. "Did you tell him yet?"

"I want to tell him in person."

Kim nodded and gave a look to the door. "What did Bonnie say?"

"She doesn't know. I wanted to tell you first."

Kim took the girl's hands in hers and squeezed them tight.

"I still don't believe it," Mariko said after a moment, "Justy really _like_ likes me."

Kim kissed her on the forehead.

Mariko looked up at her. "And you knew, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Kim nodded. "I've known for a long time."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted this to happen without any meddling," Kim explained. "I wanted it to be something special just between you two. And I knew it would happen. I knew." She blinked the tears from her eyes. "So did he finally ask you to _this year's_ Spirit Dance?"

"Well, I think so."

"What do you mean?"

"It was kinda hard to understand what he was saying when I kissed him."

"What?" Kim cried, jumping off the bed. "You didn't tell me you kissed!"

"Uh huh."

"Your first kiss!" Kim practically squealed. "Well, tell me, tell me, tellme how was it?"

"Well," Mariko giggled, "it was a lot _wetter_ than I had expected."

"Yeah, go on."

"And," she said, scrunching her nose and sticking out her tongue slightly, "I think Justy's father packed his lunch today."

"Peanut butter and bacon sandwiches?" Kim guessed, mirroring the girl's expression. "Okay, but then what?"

"Then … it was …"

"Worth singing about?"

Mariko nodded. She hopped off the bed, and they hugged once more.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so, so happy for you," Kim whispered into the girl's ear. After a few moments of feeling the steady beats of the girl's heart against her own chest, something occurred to Kim. She pulled back slightly. "Wow."

"What?"

"You're taller than me."

Mariko blinked. "No way! That can't be." She shook her head. "Must be my cleats."

Kim arched an eyebrow. "Mariko, you're not wearing your cleats," she said, pointing to the shoes lying by the door.

* * *

_To be continued ..._

**A/N:** The song Mariko "sings" in section six is Neil Young's "Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere."


	24. Twenty-two

I.

When Mariko asked her if she wanted to come to dinner, Kim only smiled and shook her head.

"I can leave the door open," the girl offered, "y'know, so you can hear how things go."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Kim said. "You can tell me all about it afterwards. I'll wait."

After the door closed, Kim felt even more satisfied with her decision to isolate herself.

_This is a father-daughter thing. There's no need for me to intrude on their moment._

As Yamanouchi had receded into the past, Kim had gradually become less "intrusive" in the lives of her loved ones. The desire to be around her family and friends had never dulled, of course; yet, constantly hovering around them had begun to feel, at certain times, less like watching over them and more like prying. It had been difficult to ration her visits at first, but it had become less so as the years passed. The decisive moment had been when Ron and Bonnie became a couple.

On the other hand, she was always there for Mariko.

One of the unexpected blessings of Kim's second life had been her developing a sense of patience. Sitting still for an hour (or hours) was a matter of course now, but it had been unthinkable in her first life. In fact, saving the world had been a happy accident resulting from her drive to always be doing something.

Classes, and prepping for the cheer squad tryouts had scarcely been enough to keep her occupied; hence, setting up the website that had led both to a full regimen of baby-sitting jobs and her first real rescue. And as middle school became high school and the rescues became full-fledged missions, she _still_ found herself impatient for more things to do. When she recalled the insane schedule she had been juggling from her sophomore year on, Kim could hardly believe it. Of course, just because it boggled her mind did not mean that she didn't miss it. She did. Definitely.

Yet. A slower, quieter life was good too.

These reflections brought back a half-forgotten play Kim had read late sophomore year. Its title stayed maddeningly out of her mind's reach, but she remembered that she had _not_ liked the play.

It was a strange play without scenery or props. However, the actors in the play pretended they were opening gates, shutting doors, putting groceries into cabinets and so on. Kim remembered that near the play's end, a young woman had died in childbirth. She was carried to the cemetery where all the other 'dead' of the village sat in chairs-their tombstones, Kim had guessed, and were awaiting the final judgment at the end of time. Their chat with the young woman made the play's moral quite obvious. Every moment of life was precious and people should stop to appreciate as much as they could before it was gone. And, of course, the play's heroine had been far too busy living her life to have really appreciated it in this sense.

Kim distinctly remembered closing her textbook in disgust upon finishing the play. Its message was so flawed. It went up against everything she believed, ran counter to the way she chose to live her life. What was she supposed to do, let Drakken take over Canada, so she could fully enjoy the sunset?

What struck Kim as funny now was the fact that she _was_ enjoying sunsets, sunrises, and all those small moments of life that the play had championed, but _after_ she had died.

_And this so beats sitting in a chair waiting for Paradise._

Then Kim realized she _was_ sitting in a chair. With a laugh, she hopped from behind Mariko's desk and walked around the room. She noted a poster of Brooklyn Beckham that she hadn't seen before and a few new pictures of Mariko's teammates stuck to the cork bulletin board. A new shot of a very self-conscious-looking Justy caught her eye as well. She stretched on the bed and absently noticed Pandaroo perched on the edge of the desk, just a few feet from Mariko's pillow.

Up until the very last night of her life, Kim had needed the black-and-white plush to help her to fall asleep. Even in the quiet darkness of her bedroom after an exhausting day of classes, squad practice and globe-trekking/world-saving, she was usually too restive to sleep. Something in the act of curling up with Pandaroo, however, allowed her to unwind, allowed her to _permit_ herself to rest.

Without question, he was her most favorite possession from her childhood, and she was more than happy to pass it on to Ron's little girl.

Of course, Mariko had never had any trouble falling asleep. In fact, during the first few nights after Kim had given her the toy, Pandaroo had actually kept her awake. Instead of snuggling, Mariko preferred to play with him.

Kim frowned slightly as she recalled the turbulent weeks after their return to Middleton. Although the days had been cluttered with moments of chaotic, giddy joy as the children became acquainted with their new home, the nights had been rough. Ron, his mother, and Rina did not get a decent night's sleep for the first ten days.

At least once an evening, a child would wake up among the blue shadows cast by one of the room's nightlights and not recall where he or she was. Their frightened cries would wake the others in the room, and they, too, would dissolve into confused tears. And, if their dismay was left unchecked for too long, it would travel either up to the attic or flow down to Ron's old room and awaken the children there. Dressed only in a t-shirt and boxers, his hair in an array of cowlicks, Ron would bound up the one or two flights of stairs (depending on the source of the trouble), to calm the gathering storm or storms. He was often joined by both Rina and his mother, and all three would sooth the children with a combination of songs, stories, and silly faces.

For Kim, the worst part of those early weeks was Mariko's nightmares. On a couple of evenings they involved Sensei. One night it was Hirotaka. Mostly, however, they were about her mother. Holding the little girl close, Kim would rock her back and forth in the darkness until she heard Ron's heavy feet outside the door. A few nights the rocking calmed her. Most nights it did not.

One of the times Kim hadn't been able to console Mariko was their second night back. She had been so startled as Mariko began abruptly thrashing her limbs beneath her covers that Kim practically jumped from the bed. When she gently reached out and touched the little girl, Mariko's eyes had sprung open. Automatically, Kim began whispering kind words to her and then gestured to Pandaroo, lying upside-down on the girl's pillow.

Violently, the girl swatted the toy to the floor and then proceeded to look about the room with abrupt jerks of her head. A careful look in Mariko's discombobulated eyes in the dull nightlight's glow told Kim that she was still chasing shadows from her dream. Kim reached out to steady her, but Mariko pulled away and began crying. Tentatively, helplessly, Kim caressed the girl's shivering back until Ron, followed closely by Rina, entered the room. Once in her father's arms, Mariko fully awoke and began to sob about her mother.

And Kim realized how completely naive she had been. Even with their escape and the other wonderful recent turns of events, nothing could erase the little girl's loss of her mother. Nothing.

II.

" _Boo-yah!_ "

Although he was on the opposite side of the house and the other side of a closed bedroom door, Kim had no trouble hearing Ron's triumphant cry from the dinner table. Released from her melancholic reverie, she wondered whether he was reacting to the news of the Spirit Dance or to the news of his daughter's first real kiss. Knowing that her best friend held his never-be-normal philosophy in all aspects of his life, including fatherhood, Kim could easily picture him cheering for both.

She could also easily picture Mon reacting to the news of Justy's first kiss in the same fashion. Since it was unlikely that Justy would be breaking the news to his mom, Kim wondered if she would hear about it from Mariko or Ron first.

Glancing back to Pandaroo, Kim suddenly recalled the two previous _"_ kisses" Justy had attempted. Now even, thinking about the events of the night Mariko and Ron had moved into their new house made her feel bad for the little boy. The memory of his haunted, miserable expression as he lay on Mariko's mattress and stared through the ceiling went right through Kim's heart still.

Conversely, she couldn't help but smile when she remembered his _first_ try, made not long after Mariko and Ron returned from Yamanouchi. Not because it was any more successful; in fact, it was even less so.

No, what bemused Kim about Justy's first attempted kiss was the fact that he hadn't been trying to kiss Mariko. He had been trying to kiss _her_.

III.

Within the first month back from Japan, Ron began putting the initial steps of his restaurant plans into motion. There was a big powwow one night between Ron, MrDrP and a bank associate of Mrs. Stoppable at Kim's house. As Ron and MrDrP deliberated the financial hurdles of transferring Kim's trust into Ron's account in the living room, Kim hung out upstairs in her old bedroom as Rina read stories to Mariko, Justy, and the rest of the children.

Although she didn't employ a barrage of sound effects or use funny voices like Ron always did when he read to the children, there was no denying that the young girl was an excellent storyteller.

All week Kim had been witness to the girl's talent as she read to the children from Ron's old storybooks every evening. While on the mountaintop, Kim had rarely seen the girl without a book in her hands, so the move from reader to storyteller might have seemed a logical progression. Of course, her reading material at Yamanouchi suggested the development was anything but a given. Kim doubted the girl had ever seen a children's storybook before, let alone had one read to her. The fact that within minutes of being shown the small bookcase by Barbara Jo she had begun reading aloud to the children said much, Kim felt, about the girl's maternal instincts and her character. And since Rina mentally translated the books as she read them so she could tell their stories aloud in Japanese, her achievement was truly remarkable.

The reason she used her native language was because of Daisuke. The youngest of the children, he had only been at Yamanouchi for a half year before their departure, and subsequently knew very little if any English. In addition, he was easily frightened, and not always by obvious things, so Rina had to select her stories carefully. Kim mused that being taken from an orphanage to a cruel ninja school and then suddenly finding himself in Middleton went a long way to explaining the little boy's skittish demeanor.

Although she couldn't understand the words-she could only understand _Mariko's_ Japanese, Kim had enjoyed listening to the gentle tempo of Rina's reading all week at Ron's. And, for some reason, she found it even more congenial as she lay on her old bed. Her head against a pillow, her eyes half-closed, and Pandaroo sitting only a few inches to the right of her head, it was almost as if Kim were preparing to fall asleep. It was already past the younger children's bedtime, and Rina asked Mariko and Justy to dim the lamps on Kim's desk and bureau. This only enhanced the "sleepy" illusion for Kim.

Rina sat near the bed's bottom edge; the children sat cross-legged on the floor by her feet. As she would finish reading a page, Rina would turn the book face-out so the children could see the pictures. Only Daisuke was on the bed, huddled by Rina's side. Catching a glance at the cover, Kim saw that they were hearing about _Snow White_. Although the story had never been one of her favorites in her first life, she found herself warming to it in her second. She smiled, closed her eyes, and imagined the children sleeping in hodge-podge formations across her bed.

This pleasant fantasy was disrupted by sudden movement at the foot. Not wanting to dispel the relaxing sense of "sleep" that she had lulled herself into, Kim only cracked open one eye to see what was going on. Mariko and Justy were now sitting on the far edge, close to Rina and Daisuke. Mariko's shadowy form leaned in to whisper to Justy's shadowy form. Kim contentedly retreated back to her mind.

Since their return to Middleton, Kim had happily discovered that when her mind wandered that it did so toward the future, near and far, rather than back to the past. Even in the semi-shrine to her first life that her bedroom had become, Kim found her thoughts orbiting about the children who were present at that moment in the room and what their lives might hold, not with the children who had played in it years earlier or with the lives that might have been theirs. And it wasn't as if she were consciously distracting herself with these hopes for the future. The remorseful thoughts and regrets simply occurred less and less often.

The bed shifted again, but Kim didn't open her eyes. Rina's pauses where becoming more frequent and Kim could make out the slight sounds of the book being turned in her hands. She wondered absently how far in the story they had gotten. Then she heard Mariko's whisper fairly close by. And then she caught Justy whisper hesitantly back.

Had she and Ron ever whispered that much when they were that age? Upon reflection, Kim didn't think so. There was never much need to keep secrets between each other and, besides, that wasn't the reason Mariko and Justy were whispering. It was because Justy was so shy. Although Kim had been somewhat … well, not shy, but _guarded_ around people she didn't know, Ron had been anything but shy. He was actually quite loud-whispering did not come naturally to him. She smiled at the thought that her best friend whose "quiet voice" had regularly tripped lair security alarms had become a world-class ninja.

More whispers from the kids. Closer. Kim was getting mildly annoyed. Although it was impossible for her to sleep, she was trying to relax. She turned on her side away from them and tried to recapture her train of thought.

The whispers ceased. And Kim couldn't help thinking that their sudden stop had had something to do with her changing position. Had Mariko read the agitation in her movement? Slowly, Kim turned back over and, to enhance the illusion that these movements were only the product of sleep (even though she had told Mariko that she couldn't sleep), let her head loll until it was facing completely to the right.

No whispers. Only the sound of Rina reading in Japanese. As the moments ticked away, Kim cracked her right eye open at Pandaroo, still sitting on the pillow beside her. Quickly closing it again, she moved her head back so she was facing the ceiling. As she did so, she heard Justy whisper and felt back at ease. As she listened to Mariko's hushed response, it suddenly occurred to Kim that this was the first time Rina had ever read _Snow White_ ; it wasn't a book in Ron's collection. How would Daisuke react to the witch?

There was another shift on the bed, very close by. And the whispers stopped. Content that she had done nothing to disrupt the children's game, Kim let her mind wander back to the image of the Yamanouchi children sleeping on her bed. For a second, memories of the distant village lights she had seen from the school's mountaintop flickered across her mind. Strangely, it had never occurred to her before, but was it possible that some of these children had come from those same villages.

As Kim mused over the thought of her bed filled with sleeping children from that valley, she couldn't repress a smile. But as she did, she became aware of a funny sensation spreading across her lips. She pursed them, licked them, and then pressed them firmly together but the feeling remained, grew. She found it difficult to place at first. Within a few seconds, however, she realized it was very similar to the "pins-and-needles" tingle she had felt whenever her hand or leg fell asleep in her first life. This was the first time she had felt anything like it since she had died. And _that_ wasn't quite it, either. It wasn't as sharp and painful, and it felt stronger, denser. Almost as if the sensation was pressing down, almost as if it had _weight_ to it.

Quite suddenly, Mariko hissed something to Justy. The little girl's voice had been so close and so clear that Kim made out what Mariko had said the instant before she opened her eyes.

It had been a single word: " _Now …_ "

Kim was too astonished to react, even to blink. Not two inches above her nose with his eyes squeezed shut and his lips cartoonishly puckered was Justy. After the initial shock, Kim realized that the boy, perched on his knees immediately to the right of her shoulder, was maintaining his very precarious angle with Mariko's assistance. The little girl was standing behind him, her hands hooked around his bent elbows, holding his position steady. Or, possibly, _lowering him down_.

When her eyes met Mariko's, the little girl froze. Neither moved for what seemed a very long time.

"Am I doing this right?" Justy asked, turning his head slightly so as to look back at his friend.

When he spoke, Kim and Mariko's eyes momentarily flashed to him, but then quickly went back to each other.

"Mariko?" Justy asked when she failed to answer his first question. "Did I do it already?"

"Uh, …" she answered finally, still not moving.

"Because I feel really stra-"

The assault of the keening was as painful as it was abrupt. Kim had reflexively thrown her hands to her ears before she even realized that she had been jolted off the bed. Her world became a blur and her back landed with a painful thud on the bedroom floor. She blinked her eyes clear just in time to see Pandaroo tumble over the bed's edge and rolled out of his path at the very last second.

Kim took a couple of stabilizing breaths. If her beloved plush had made impact, she would have been sent across the room like a pinball. As the surge of panic lifted, she glanced back to the bed and registered the two faces on its edge that were pointed in her direction. Justy looked about the floor, apparently just as perplexed as Kim as to what had just happened.

Suddenly, a third face, Daisuke's, joined Mariko and Justy's. Although there were tears on the little boy's cheeks, his eyes only reflected confusion as he looked down at the floor and then stared in the general direction of where Mariko was looking. Her eyes, although completely dry, were the ones that expressed a heavy sense of sadness.

Less than an hour later, Kim and Mariko sat cross-legged facing each other on the chilly floor of the Possible's master bathroom. Although all the kids, Justy and Rina included, had fallen asleep on her bed or, in Rina's case, in her desk chair, Kim thought her mother's bathroom, with all the adults still downstairs, would be the most secure place for the two of them to talk.

Mariko sheepishly explained what she had been trying to do. Kim was certain her friend's plan was by far the most adorable thing she had ever heard, yet she dared not give the slightest indication of her true feeling. The little girl was far too upset. And although she kept herself from crying, Mariko hesitated frequently and would only look into her lap as she spoke.

The instant Kim leaned over to embrace her, the tears began.

"Shh, shh," Kim whispered as she held Mariko tight. She felt the dampness of the girl's tears against her shirt.

"Thank you, thank you," Kim said, kissing the top of Mariko's head. "That is the nicest thing anyone's ever tried to do for me." She waited until the little girl had finished drying her eyes on the bottom edges of her peasant shirt before saying what needed to be said. "But I don't believe it would have worked, sweetheart, even if Justy had kissed me."

"Because he's not a prince?" Mariko's voice had a hopeful lilt in it.

"No, no," Kim said, trying to keep the smile from showing in her voice. "Justy makes a fine prince. You couldn't have picked anyone better. It's not because of that."

Mariko sighed and looked back to her lap. "It's because you're dead, right? Not asleep like the princess was."

"Yes," Kim nodded, her mood now as solemn as the little girl's. "That's true." She sighed and then proceeded, "But that's not all."

"Huh?"

Kim gently placed a hand on Mariko's shoulder. "It's also just a story. Not everything in books or movies can really happen. Not everything they say or show you is true."

"But, but," Mariko shook her head slowly, "then why do they-?" Then her eyes flashed and her voice got very low, "But that's what _Sensei_ did! He said things that weren't true."

"Oh, no," Kim said quickly, "it's the _not_ same thing, Mariko. Not at all. Sensei was _lying_. Movies and storybooks just … well, they just make up things that aren't … true."

The face Mariko gave Kim revealed that she earnestly wanted to believe what she was being told, but she just couldn't because …

_Because it doesn't make any sense! Ugh! Parenting is so hard._

It was the first time Kim had specifically used that word to describe what she doing with Mariko. And she found it somewhat scary. But she also knew it was true.

Kim smartly patted her right knee and Mariko automatically got up and sat upon it.

Wrapping her arms around the girl's shoulders, Kim began, "Well, sweetheart, let me try and explain it to you."

As Kim sat perched on the edge of her old desk and watched Mariko, Justy and the rest of the children sleep in her bed, she replayed "the incident" in her mind. And it was quite clear what had happened.

Once Rina had come to the part in the story where the Queen became the witch, Daisuke had tried to get as far away from the book as he possibly could. Kim had simply been in his way. Without knowing he had done it, the little boy had pushed her off the bed.

Talking to Mariko had cleared up everything else. When the little girl had seen her friend abruptly slide over the edge, she had let go of Justy, and he, in turn, had landed face first on Kim's pillow with such force that he sent Pandaroo bouncing over the side after her.

Kim sighed. It was just one more example of the "afterlife hijinks" that happened whenever someone other than Mariko got too close to her.

And yet something seriously unusual had happened, too.

_What was that prickly feeling? And why was it coming from Justy?_

And, of course, that led to other questions about the little boy. Questions that had been nagging Kim for some time.

Like why didn't she hear the keening when she got close to him?

Kim had known since that horrible first night back on the mountain that the keening wasn't connected with everybody. She didn't hear it when she'd collided with Hirotaka's barrier that night. And it certainly wasn't present when she'd futilely struck at Sensei on the day they had learned Rufus had died. Yet it _did_ sound when she got too close to Rina, Yamamoto-san, Daisuke, and the other children. In fact, as far as she could tell, it occurred around all the students on the mountaintop. Just like when she was around people in Middleton.

So why did she _not_ hear it when she was near Justy?

Up until that moment, Kim had always seen the keening and the barrier as being one and the same thing. She even thought about it as the "keening barrier." But what if that wasn't true? What if they were two separate phenomena that just happened to occur, more often than not, at the same time?

_That might explain some things. Maybe._

The keening was always connected with the barrier, but the opposite wasn't the case.

Sensei and Hirotaka were the two exceptions. And Justy was the third.

She instantly dismissed the notion that there was some sinister connection between Monique's son and Sensei and his henchman.

 _So not worth the 'as if'. But what_ is _the common factor?_

Kim reflected on the farewell dinner her brothers and Wade had thrown for Ron and Mariko just before they departed for Yamanouchi. At the time she hadn't noticed it, but she had realized later that there was no keening around Justy. It was only the scraping of his corduroys together that had told her he was coming her way. In fact, they might have collided if she hadn't had stepped out of his way at that last moment.

Then something fundamental occurred to Kim. Something that she had somehow missed.

"No way!"

Mariko stirred slightly at Kim's cry and then rolled over, knocking Pandaroo once more to the floor.

There was no keening around Justy. But maybe _there was no barrier, either_.

Kim slipped off the edge of her desk and walked to the opposite side of the bed. Justy was sleeping quietly near the center of the bed, but he was closer to the left side. Leaning across Takeshi's prostrate form and wincing slightly against his keening, she began to slowly lower her hand over Justy's shoulder.

She hesitated at the moment when her palm was about three inches or so above him. This was where the penumbra of impenetrable shrieking usually began. But there was nothing. Kim held her breath and then allowed her fingers to continue to fall through the silent air.

The mounting anticipation was so intense that it was something of a relief for her when the "pins-and-needles" sensation began. Her fingertips were less than an inch from his shoulder, and the feeling consumed them, quickly spread across her hand, and began to radiate up her arm. Although the feeling certainly wasn't a pleasant one, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. And it was _not_ going to stop her from pressing on.

"Uhhh," Justy moaned suddenly. He shifted his shoulder down and away from her hand. Then he, still fast asleep, began to inch himself toward the top of the bed and away from her touch.

Kim took back her arm and backed away from the bed. Perhaps she could handle the discomfort, but she wasn't the only one in this particular sitch.

She mouthed "sorry" to the little boy and then in the soft yellow light of Ron's nightlight vainly tried to make sense of the most recent mystery her second life had presented her.

IV.

"He didn't!" Kim exclaimed although she knew it was true.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded, "he even used _my_ phone."

"Poor Justy! He must have been terrified when he answered and saw your dad."

"Most def."

Kim knew for certain that only three words would have been on Ron's mind if he had gotten a call from _her_ dad right after their first official kiss. Deep. Space. Probe.

"I guess it didn't help when Dad flashed him the skull n' crossbones," Mariko added.

"He did what!"

"Well, Dad was trying to send him the high-five alert, but he pressed the wrong button." She laughed, "Don't worry. When I jumped into the picture to help him send the right one, Justy was fine."

Kim shook her head. Sure, Justy had known Ron for most of his life, but no kid expects his girlfriend's dad, no matter how cool he may be, to call him up and congratulate him on kissing his daughter. Let alone give him a virtual high-five over it.

"Yeah, they talked for a good long time, actually." Mariko continued. "I hope they didn't use up too many of my gigs."

Kim shook her head again. The notion that a teenage girl would worry that her father might be using too many of her v-phone gigabytes chatting with her boyfriend was too much. But, actually, when she reflected on the father and daughter in question it made perfect sense. In fact, the only strange thing about the entire sitch was how quickly she had adjusted to thinking of Mariko and Justy as a couple. It was something she had been hoping to happen for … well, for years, and now it seemed so normal.

"Bogus!" Mariko cried suddenly.

"What?"

"What am I going to wear?" Mariko hurried to the closet and jimmied open its "trick" door. "It's already Tuesday!"

"Well, how about that lime blouse and the blue Capris?" Kim offered, more than a little confused at her friend's anxiety. It was only the Spirit Dance.

"Whatever! I wear that like practically every day."

"Well, how about the cutoffs and the-"

She was interrupted by the genuine look of horror on Mariko's face.

"Well, why not? It's not like it's the prom."

"No, it's the junior prom," Mariko replied. "Or, no, it's the prom, _jr._ … prom-lite … whatever … it's a big freaking deal."

"It certainly wasn't when I went. It was totally cash."

"Really?"

"Heck, I actually went in the same clothes I had worn to school that day. And Josh did the same thing."

"Well, it's way different now. Sarah has had her dress picked out for a month. Shoot-what time is it?"

"Almost nine, why?"

"Too late. I have to remind Justy to pick up a suit tomorrow. Why didn't I think of that earlier?"

"A suit? You've got to be kidding me."

"So not. I mean what if by some freak chance we get voted Prince and Princess? This needs to be done right."

"There's a _Prince_ and _Princess_ of the Spirit Dance?" _This is nuts._

"Who's Josh?"

Kim, whose mind was still focused on how a dance that she had always considered an off-shoot/afterthought to a pep rally could have become such a big deal, didn't register the question at first.

"Rufina, who's Josh?"

"Oh, Josh Mankey. We went to the Spirit Dance Sophomore year."

Mariko blinked. "You took _Mankey's dad_ to the Spirit Dance?"

"Well, yeah."

"That is _so_ twisted. Why?"

"Well," Kim gave a nervous laugh, "back then I though he was … well, golden."

"Golden?"

"Cute," Kim explained uncomfortably. "I guess."

Mariko stood in thought for a few seconds. "Okay, I can see that. He does kinda look like Sean … in an older, balding sort of way. But I meant why didn't you take Dad?"

"Well, we were just friends then."

"Oh yeah, you didn't get together until Junior year, right?"

"Yep. At the Junior prom." After a beat Kim arched her eyebrow, "And I don't mean 'the prom, jr.'"

"Okay," Mariko laughed. "But you guys _did_ go to the prom jr. Senior year, right?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry. You guys went to the Spirit Dance when you were seniors, right?"

"Actually, no." Kim frowned. "We were … detained. Literally. The Seniors and Frugal Lucre decided to join up and, well, things got _complicated_ and then our flight back got delayed. We missed it."

"That tanks."

"Not really." Kim thought back to the airliner's darkened and practically empty coach section and the snuggling it had encouraged.

"I don't want to know why you're smiling, do I?" Mariko asked.

"Probably not." Kim replied impishly.

"Bogus!" the girl exclaimed again.

"What's wrong now?"

"I don't think Justy knows how to dance."

"Well … you could teach him. There's still plenty of time." There were still two days until Friday.

"But _I_ can't dance!"

"What? Of course, you can dance, Mariko." Ron had taught her years earlier. Although Kim couldn't say that Mariko could win contests, she knew that the girl possessed more than her share of badical steps. _It's not like she needs to know how to waltz._

"Yeah, I can 'dance,'" the girl replied with an air quote gesture, "but I can't waltz."

"Waltz? Since _when_ did the Spirit Dance become a waltz?"

"Since like _forever_ ," Mariko cried in exasperation, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "After they present the scepters to the Royal Couple, _everybody_ has to waltz!"

"Calm down, this is doable," Kim said putting her hands on the now-frazzled teen's shoulders. "Let's see." _Was I this prone to drama at her age?_ "Wait-my mom! She taught _me_ how to waltz, I'm sure she'll be happy to teach you."

"Okay," Mariko said breathing a little easier. "But what about Justy?"

"She can teach him, too."

"Yeah, okay, that sounds cool."

"Time's the only ish. Do you think your dad can stand to have you come in late tomorrow at _BFs_?"

"I think so," Mariko nodded, her anxiety almost completely gone.

Then Kim thought of something. "He does realize that you won't be able to work this Friday, doesn't he?" she asked, arching her eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Mariko said happily, "in fact, he's calling out Friday, too."

"He is? Why?"

"He's going to cater the dance."

"I didn't know the restaurant was catering the dance."

"Well, it wasn't. He decided to do it thirty minutes ago."

It took a good deal for Kim to resist the urge to slap her forehead.

"Any why did he do that?"

"Well, I told him that Barkin mentioned in homeroom today that the caterer had backed out at the last minute and that he had no choice but to have the caf provide the food for the dance."

Kim nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. He has no choice."

Setting aside the moral imperative aspect of the sitch, Kim still believed Ron was being reckless. Trying to pull off such a big catering job with only two days notice was crazy. At the same time, however, she was certain he could do it. Although he was the king of all things slack, things always were done on schedule when food was involved-preparing as well as eating. However, there still was a problem.

"So I guess he's closing the restaurant Friday night?" Kim knew that whatever fee Middleton High paid Ron-if he would even accept it-would not come close to covering the loss of having the restaurant closed on such a profitable night. Ron wasn't in any financial straits that she was aware of, but she couldn't help worrying.

"Oh no, Fukishima's gonna handle the Friday dinner rush."

"Is that a good idea?" Kim knew Ron's shift manager had so far only covered slow nights during the week.

Mariko nodded, "Dad doesn't think it'll be a problem."

"Well, maybe your dad should ask Fukishima if it's 'a problem' before volunteering her for the busiest night of the week."

Mariko laughed. "Dr. R said the same thing."

* * *

To be continued ...


	25. Twenty-three

I.

"Don't stay up too late," Kim said as she began to climb out the window. She eyed the stack of novels-all probably overdue at the library-on Mariko's desk. She well knew her friend's M.O. of getting in bed on time yet staying up late to read for hours.

"It's barely ten," Mariko said, glancing at the alarm clock on her desk.

"It's ten fifteen," Kim corrected, shooting a look at the same clock.

"Exactly," the teenager nodded. " _Barely_ ten."

Kim sighed. "Wade's had the Sloth since Sunday, and I know how long it takes you to … amble to school, so you need to leave the house extra early. And you told me you were late to school today, Mariko."

"Uh-huh, so what's the big?"

"The big is that I don't want you getting a detention that'll cut into your waltzing time."

"I won't."

"Are you or are you not in Mr. 'Three-Strikes-and-You're-Out's' homeroom?"

"Yeah," Mariko replied as she kicked off her Otterfly slippers and crawled onto her bed with her v-phone, "but I've only got one strike so far this week."

"Only one?"

"Yep."

"What about Monday?"

"Didn't count," Mariko said as she began previewing her messages.

"What do you mean?"

"My hand was on the chair when the bill rang."

"He let that pass?"

"Yep, as long as you're touching a part of your desk, you're safe. It's one of the amendments to Barkin's Law."

_Amendments?_

"Man, _someone's_ getting soft in his old age," Kim grumbled as she turned to leave.

"Rufina?" Mariko said with a sudden sense of urgency.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Justy really like likes me, huh?" There was a faint trace of fragility to the girl's otherwise ecstatic smile.

"He does, sweetheart," Kim smiled back. "Pleasant dreams."

II.

Despite the giddiness the idea of Mariko and Justy's first date-as well as the prospect of watching her mother teaching the two to waltz-produced within her, Kim was trying hard to leaven her excitement. It was entirely possible that she would not witness the dance. Not see the next couple of days; not the next couple of weeks, even. The capriciousness of her existence in this second life could be unduly cruel at times. After all, she had missed Mariko's first Christmas, her first week of school, and her very first birthday party. That last one had been rough.

But she also knew she had no right to complain. In addition to the blessings of being present at Mariko's Bat mitzvah and most of the other big events and holidays in the girl's life, Kim knew her entire second life was a gift. That acknowledged, Kim also knew the dangers of letting her hopes climb too high.

As she crossed the front lawn, Kim noticed that Bonnie's car was no longer in the drive.

Had she already gone home? It was barely ten after all.

 _Oh no. Did they have_ another _fight?_

Although she vigilantly tried to maintain as much ignorance as possible about their relationship, Kim had known for a while that things hadn't been going perfectly between Ron and Bonnie.

The sitch really depressed her.

Not the least because from what little she couldn't keep herself from overhearing and observing, the culprit for the discord, more often than not, was Ron. From time to time, he would get into these funny moods where it was so obvious something was bothering him, but he'd pretend nothing was. When Bonnie would press him, he'd clam up. And then it would only be a matter of time, an average of five minutes, before the argument would start.

Ron had kept things from Kim, too, especially when they had first started dating. However, Kim always managed to get him to spill eventually. Bonnie didn't seem to have that ability.

As Kim looked back to the house, she noticed Ron sitting on the darkened stoop by the front door. His arms crossed over his bent knees and his face pointed to the ground, there was no evidence of the elation Kim had heard in his "Booyah" from only a few hours earlier. She reflexively looked back to the spot where Bonnie's car had been.

She approached the edge of his keening and sat down in the grass. There was no moon, and his face was in shadow. She couldn't even tell if his eyes were open. After a few moments, he sighed, but still did not move.

Kim blinked her eyes against a sharp wave of melancholy. She recalled all the nights she had sat outside with him after he and Mariko had just returned from Japan. Some had been depressing affairs, just like this. But many had not.

_So not._

III.

"Kim, I've been thinking about what to call the restaurant, and, well, I wanted to run an idea by you," Ron said, his feet tracing a small circle on his mother's back lawn.

He was, of course, addressing her picture. The same picture he had kept in his kit box at Yamanouchi. Most nights, after the kids and his mother had gone to bed, he would quietly exit through the door to the porch to sit beneath the stars. Before long, he would take the picture from his wallet, stare at it silently for a moment or two, and then begin to talk to it. About Mariko, about the restaurant, about the rest of the children, about Rufus, about anything at all.

"I'm all ears," Kim replied eagerly.

Of course, she would talk back to him. In a weird way, it didn't matter that he was looking at her snapshot when he spoke. She was, after all, wearing the same outfit as she was in the photo. Furthermore, these "chats" almost felt real. At certain points, the flow of his questions and her answers seemed so natural that Kim could half-convince herself that they really were having a conversation.

However, she had to be careful about this. Not only was there the obvious emotional hazard to the delusion, there was a significant physical peril as well. Whenever Ron got really excited, he became prone to unexpected shifts in direction, exultations, mad dog cheer routines, etc. More than once, she had been following him too close and a sudden gesticulation had sent her flying. She knew to keep her distance tonight because talking about the restaurant always made him "dangerous."

"How would you," he began rubbing the back of his neck, "how would you feel if I, well, if I named it after you?"

In retrospect, it was an immanently obvious choice; however, when he suggested it, Kim was taken by surprise.

"Wow, Ron, that's …," Kim could feel the flush rising in her cheeks.

"Now before you shoot it down, hear me out," he told her picture. "There are a lot of good reasons. Point 'A' is the marquee appeal. You are bar-none the most famous person to ever come out of this town. Point two, it's got a great ring to it. _Kimberly's_ just sounds like a swanky place. Point 'C' and this is crucial, a key factor …"

His lengthy pause allowed Kim to get a better grip on her emotions. Not only what he was saying but his mannerisms as he spoke the words were reminding her so much of the old Ron, her Ron, that it was becoming difficult not to cry.

"A very crucial, key factor that I can't remember," he admitted finally.

That did it. The laughter released her grip on the tears.

"But, anyway, the big reason is," she heard him continue as she dried her cheeks, "it really is _your_ restaurant, KP."

He had stopped moving. And he continued to silently stand in his mother's yard for what seemed several minutes. Finally, he told the photograph, "There's no way this would be happening without you."

As wonderfully sad as Ron's words made Kim feel, a part of her disagreed with his choice. In the first place, it seemed wrong to name an eating establishment after someone who detested cooking. Mostly, however, it was because she knew Ron was wrong-it was _his_ restaurant, not hers. Maybe she, or rather her money, had played an important role in his realizing of his dream so quickly; still, it was wrong that she should, in effect, take all the credit.

The sitch brought to mind her failed attempts to promote _Team_ Possible during the last year of her life. If the Little Diablo incident had taught her anything, it was that she couldn't save the world on her own. Although Drakken had never meant it that way, he had been right: she _wasn't_ all that. But working together, Team Possible _was_. It had been a hard lesson to learn, but she finally had.

The problem was that other people were harder to convince. Despite the times she went out of her way to tell reporters about Ron and Wade and Rufus, the stories always ended up being "Kim Possible" stories. And Ron's restaurant seemed destined to become another example of this.

Ron sighed heavily and collapsed into a lotus position on the grass. "I don't know, KP," he explained to the photo. "Maybe it isn't such a hot idea. I mean, what if, you know, what if the restaurant crashes and burns? I'd hate to saddle you with a legacy of culinary failure."

Although that was exactly the culinary legacy she knew she had earned, Kim sincerely doubted any restaurant associated with Ron would be a failure. Still, she was relieved he was having second thoughts, no matter the motive.

"Maybe I should just go with what Mariko and Justy came up with," he said, stroking his goatee thoughtfully.

"That would be _so_ perfect, Ron!" Kim had had no idea that Mariko had Justy had suggested a name, but she immediately fell in love with the idea of the kids doing the honors. "You should definitely go with it. Whatever-"

"The Nosh Hut," Ron pronounced confidently to the star-filled night sky.

_Uh … okay._

"I don't know," he shrugged. "That's just missing something." He glanced down at the photo as he began to stand. "But don't you worry; the Ronster'll figure something out." He placed the photo in his wallet, put the wallet in his rear pocket and walked back toward the house.

Kim needed to rush to make it back inside before Ron could shut the door. She normally didn't hesitate when she saw he was going inside, but this was the first time she had heard Ron address himself by a nickname since the morning of the day she was killed.

IV.

"Are you okay?"

Kim looked up. "Yeah, I'm fine," she answered quickly, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeves.

"Are you sure?" Mariko asked, touching her shoulder.

"Uh-huh," she replied, smiling. "Actually, I feel pretty good."

"You're crying." Anxious doubt persisted in the teen's eyes.

"Yeah, but it's because of something good."

"Okay. Just wanted to be sure."

Kim looked past Mariko and saw Justy sitting at the computer desk, his back to them. A few seconds earlier she had been sitting on the frozen roof and now she was in the same position on her young friend's bed. This particular leap was, in a certain light, the most inconvenient one she had undergone; yet, it was also the most welcome.

"How long was I gone?" Kim asked. "Did I miss all of Hanukah?"

"Nope. This is only the second night. It's Christmas Eve."

"Oh good. So it's only been a day."

"Yeah, but what a day."

"Really?" Kim asked, believing she knew what Mariko was alluding to.

"Are you talking to Rufina?" Justy asked.

"So the drama." Mariko whispered in Kim's ear. "Yeah, I am," she answered Justy. She turned back to Kim and said quietly, "I'll explain later."

"Tell her I said 'hello,'" Justy said over his shoulder. He was very intent upon the screen on Mariko's desk.

"Hi, Justy," Kim called. "Merry Christmas!"

"She wished you a Merry Christmas," Mariko said, turning to face him.

"Merry Christmas, Rufina!" he answered.

Although missing the holidays would have been bad, Kim was more concerned about missing Mariko's Bat mitzvah. For the past few months the thirteen-year-old had been spending a good chunk of her free time with Rabbi Katz, brushing up on her Hebrew. Silently reading and even writing the language was "no big"; however, pronouncing it was proving to be a challenge. Kim guessed the reason for the difficulty lay in the fact that Hebrew was one of the very few languages that had not been taught at Yamanouchi.

Mariko had explained that her father had been trying to help. On the plus side, he remembered how to correctly pronounce what he could recall about the language. Unfortunately, what he recalled was highly idiosyncratic and unhelpful—the months of the year and how to tell someone what time it was (only from noon to midnight).

Kim glanced to the darkened bedroom window.

"What time is it? Shouldn't you guys be leaving for my parents' house soon?"

"I'll go remind dad. The party's probably slipped his mind."

"I doubt he'll ever let _Snowman Hank_ slip his mind," Kim countered.

"I think Dr. R is a little more important than Snowman Hank," Mariko said with a look that managed to be both impish and grossed out.

"Really?" Kim asked.

"Uh- huh. Like I said, so the drama."

The girl exited the room, calling out as she hurried down the hall, "Daaaaad! We're going to miss Mr&MrsDrP's party!"

As soon as she left, Justy switched his attention from the computer screen to the open doorway. He sat perfectly still-didn't even blink.

Kim sighed. She had known for years that Monique's son was in love Mariko. She was certain they would make a great couple and, at times like this, part of her desperately wanted to tell Mariko about how Justy felt. Yet, she always held back. It was best, she felt, not to push or guide something as precious as a first love.

After what seemed a long moment, they both heard Mariko holler, "Hey, is it safe for me to come in? I mean you guys are decent and all?"

"Knock it off, Mariko," Ron called back.

The exchange made Justy blink. And made him a little embarrassed, too. Yet he composed himself and returned his forlorn gaze to the door.

Kim got off the bed and walked over to stand by the young boy's side. She inexplicably felt compelled to place her hand on his shoulder. At first she fought the urge, but then she tentatively reached out her arm.

The pins-and-needles sensation she remembered from years earlier returned, but it was different somehow. Less intense. Still when Justy began to flinch slightly, Kim drew back her hand and quickly walked back to Mariko's bed.

"Why did I do that?" she asked aloud as she sat on the side of the bed.

Upon looking up, she gasped. Justy was looking at her. _Right at her_. However, his eyes wavered to the right a few seconds later, and Kim started breathing again.

Rubbing the shoulder blade Kim had almost touched, he scanned her side of the room, a troubled expression on his face.

"Ready to go?" Mariko announced.

Her voice made both of them jump.

"Whoa!" Mariko said looking from one to the other. "Is everything okay in here?"

"Fine," Kim said and Justy nodded.

"Well, let's get ramblin'."

"Is Bonnie going, too?" Kim asked.

"Yes," Mariko said as she leaned over the desk to switch off her computer.

"I'll just stick around here, then."

"What?" Mariko asked. "But why?"

"I'd feel like a fifth wheel." Then she added, "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"What's going on?" Justy asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Kim nodded.

"Rufina says she isn't going," Mariko explained. She looked hard at Kim. "What's wrong, Rufina?"

"Nothing. Really, I'm fine."

"Well, okay."

There wasn't anything wrong. Kim still needed some time to recoup from the previous evening's momentous event, especially since, for her, it had occurred less than a half hour ago. And she was certain that the Possible Christmas extravaganza was not the place to do it. She would very likely be able to see her family before the end of the holiday season. Besides, there really wouldn't be enough room in the car.

She passed the hours in the Stoppables' living room, sitting beneath the tree. It was a Christmas tree, but Ron and Mariko called it their "Hanukah Bush." Of course the handful of dreidel and menorah ornaments was overwhelmed by the number of Santas and reindeer. The string of lights in the shape of _Snowman Hank_ characters was a new addition. Without any direct sense of purpose to her thoughts, she allowed her mind to orbit about Ron, Bonnie, and Justy.

When Ron, Bonnie, and Mariko came back (Justy had gone home with his parents Kim learned), the girl couldn't wait to pull Kim into her room to tell her the big news.

"Your dad and Bonnie are an item?" Kim guessed.

"Yeah," Mariko said with a mixture of relief and disappointment. She gave Kim a shrewd look. "Man, you are _good_."

"I have my sources," Kim admitted, bemusedly.

"So, you're, like, okay with it?"

"Uh-huh," Kim nodded. "You can love more than one person, right?"

"Yeah. But I was kinda worried about how you'd take it."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I think it's pretty cool," Mariko said after a moment's thought. "Dad's crazy happy," she said with a broad smile.

"Good. He deserves to be."

She finally kissed Mariko goodnight sometime after midnight. The time they spent chatting made her feel so good, made everything seem so right, that it wasn't until she was crawling out the window that Kim realized that she didn't recall hearing Ron drive Bonnie home.

However, the feelings that possibility produced where quickly pushed aside when she turned the corner of the house.

Rom was sitting alone in one of the backyard swings.

The rusty support chains creaked as the swing swayed slightly under his weight. As she drew closer, his roaming gaze suggested that he was searching for a particular star or constellation in the night sky. However, a quick glance confirmed her suspicion that the night was as completely overcast as it had been in the living room's picture window hours earlier. There were no stars.

Kim looked back to the house and saw the darkened window of Ron's bedroom. If Bonnie had stayed over, Ron would have had to sneak out to avoid waking her. This thought severely depressed her.

The creaking suddenly stopped and, before she could finish turning around, Kim heard Ron snort.

He was vigorously wiping his nose on his sleeve.

_Honey._

Although Kim knew that there was nothing she could do for him, she got as close to him as his boundary would allow. The keening was excruciating and more than once she tottered within a hair's breadth of colliding with his boundary. Yet she stayed by his side for more than an hour until he finally got up and walked back inside.

V.

 _Snap out of it, Possible! This sitch is_ so _different. He just learned that his little girl is in love, for goodness sake!_

Kim knew that dwelling on unpleasant memories never helped. It only allowed their melancholy to seep into the present. She was all the more irritated with herself because she had let it happen again.

She looked up at her best friend and commanded with as much good humor as she could muster, "Spill." A few beats later, "Come on, what's the ish? You can tell me."

Unfortunately, the sound of her voice only made his silence seem all the more impenetrable. As her smile faded, she said with faltering effort, "Come on, honey, you can tell me, can't you?"

She didn't expect him to answer. It had been years since they had "talked."

Kim couldn't recall exactly when that had begun to change. It was curious how in this life, even more than in her first, the years seemed to melt into one another. However, she knew it was at some point after the restaurant had opened and Mariko had begun elementary school and the rest of the children had found their new homes. That was when Ron had started talking less and less to her photograph.

Eventually, he stopped talking to it at all. He would just stare at the photo for long periods. And then he stopped taking it out altogether. She wasn't even sure that he kept in his wallet anymore.

And, of course, once he and Bonnie had begun dating, Ron ceased coming out at night.

This didn't surprise Kim; it made sense. Especially on the nights Bonnie slept over.

To pass her evenings, Kim would take long walks around Mount Middleton and the surrounding hills. Soaking up the mosaic of sublime sensations offered by a walk in the forest without henchmen to worry about was a pleasure she could not enjoy in her first life. And, certainly, her visits to her parents' house every evening to check on her sister made her feel good.

_You're doing it again, Possible!_

Kim forcibly shook off the encroaching sense of nostalgia and looked back toward Ron. She was flabbergasted by what she saw.

He was _smiling_. Shading his eyes from the porch light's glare with his hand, he scanned the sky for a few moments. He then swiftly walked back to the door, cracked it open, flipped off the light and then returned to the edge of the stoop to look at the sky again.

As her eyes adjusted to the moonless night, Kim noticed how distinct and bright the stars were. In fact, she could make out Ron's expression in the light they provided. She noticed a touch of wistfulness to his smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Ron seemed to have found what he was looking for, because his gaze stayed fixed for some minutes. Kim turned to look but couldn't decide for certain what he was looking at. The constellations in that direction weren't very discernable; the stars almost seemed to be tangled in that part of the sky. She gave up and contented herself with looking into his eyes.

"Yeah," he said quietly after a few moments. He turned and, fumbling with the knob, went back inside.

 _Maybe they_ didn't _have a fight. Maybe he just saw Bonnie off and decided to look at the stars._

Kim watched Ron's silhouette through the living room's large picture window as he went from room to room, shutting off the lights and making his way to bed. Although she remained guarded against rashly optimistic assumptions, she couldn't deny that Ron's face had conveyed a sense of … well, of _contentment_. The instant she thought that word, a negative impulse tried to undercut it. However, she refused to let burgeoning doubt quash her hope or ruin the close of what had become a wonderful day.

_Maybe._

She left it at that.

She turned her thoughts to her evening's destination. Although the lake at the opposite side of town was one of her favorite places to wander, a sunrise as seen from the top of Mount Middleton seemed more appropriate for some reason. She found herself thinking about the upcoming dance. The image of Justy wearing Ron's father's baby blue tux occurred to her as she turned away from the Stoppable's front yard and-

She spun around. As she strained her ears against the thick silence, her eyes skirted the front of the house and traced the expanse of the yard from the tree line to the house next door and then doubled back.

She ran.

Within seconds, Kim was around the side of the house and scaling the vinyl siding to Mariko's window ledge. She didn't breathe until she could hear the girl's snores. She peered inside and intently watched the girl sleeping for a minute. Then two. Finally, she moved on to inspect the remaining doors and windows. Only after ascending the tall oak that sheltered the roof and provided adequate if not great perimeter coverage over the entire home did Kim begin to seriously reflect upon what may or may not have happened.

She had not seen anything alarming; not exactly. Rather, when she had turned her head, she sensed that some small, yet distinct, aspect of the scene had shifted. Almost as if something that hadn't been there a moment earlier had suddenly become visible.

_Or maybe the opposite._

Perhaps some foreign element had been inconspicuously present for minutes and had abruptly vanished or moved from her view.

Kim didn't know which of these possibilities was more chilling.

The ominous silence was broken finally by a far away bird's call. Then Kim was startled by the barking of a dog a few streets off. After a few moments, she could make out the faint sounds of traffic on the Lowerton cloverleaf some miles away. These sounds and dozens of other minute signals compelled her to assume that nothing out of the ordinary had actually occurred. As the night slowly ebbed away, these signs became more numerous and persuasive.

Yet Kim kept vigil over the Stoppable home for hours. Even after she had effectively convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about, she found that she just couldn't bring herself to climb down from the branches of the tree.

Some time before dawn, Kim realized that a specific noise kept her from truly letting down her guard. Every time she thought about this sound, she was taken right back to the vertiginous moment of panic when the Unknown might or might not have shifted beneath the moonless shadows.

Ironically, it wasn't something she had actually heard this night. Rather, it was something from the far past that she feared she _might_ hear. That might, in the next instant, shatter the peace of the moonless, starlit evening.

Until dawn broke nine hours later, the dread of hearing this sound did not completely leave her.

It was the clatter of samurian armor.

* * *

To be continued ...


	26. Twenty-four

I.

Kim's anxiety began to wane once the school bell rang.

Mariko dove for her desk and gripped the back of its seat just as the ringing ceased. As amusing as she found the sight of Mr. Barkin, now silvered haired and bearded ( _When did that happen?_ ), ranting in the unfazed and utterly benign face of yet another Stoppable, humor alone was not dulling her anxiety. Guilt was involved too.

She was witnessing the one-sided confrontation between teacher and student through the classroom's windows as she crouched atop the auditorium's roof. Although Kim was only trying to keep Mariko safe, the fact that she was secretly watching over the girl did not sit well. But Kim didn't know what else to do. She certainly didn't want to alarm her friend with what was still an unproved hunch about something that she had _not_ heard the previous evening.

Paradoxically, every time she thought back to that vertiginous moment, she became more convinced that nothing had, in fact, happened while at the same time, its memory creeped her out.

Kim turned her gaze from the classroom and tried to decide what to do. Should she continue her secret observation? Let Mariko know what she thought, no, what she _felt_ might be going on? Or just recognize that there was no sitch and she was behaving irrationally?

As her eyes passed over the school grounds, she absently noted that the spot she had picked was an excellent location for surveillance. Apart from the lower field that was slightly obscured by the gym, she had a perfect line of sight in all directions. Anyone approaching the school could be seen with a good deal of warning time and tracked with precision. As a convenient case in point, she had just watched a groundskeeper languidly carry a shovel across the field and disappear behind the gym.

Inexplicably, Kim suddenly felt very _very_ uncomfortable. So much so that the creepiness from the previous evening came back upon her full force. It only lasted a few moments, but Kim did not move for the next fifty minutes. Throughout the class's normal and uneventful duration, she maintained her vigil over Mariko with renewed fervor.

II.

"Well," Mariko beamed, "what do you think?"

Kim tried to think happy thoughts as she looked over the Sloth. Really tried. However, the glare of its new chartreuse color pushed all thoughts, happy or otherwise, from her mind.

"You hate it." Mariko said flatly.

"Well …" Kim smiled tightly and then reluctantly nodded.

"It was worth a shot," Mariko sighed. She slapped the hood, and the Sloth instantly reverted to purple.

"No, no, Mariko. Change it back. This is _your_ car. It should be any color _you_ want. That was one of the reasons you had Wade work on it. Don't worry, I can deal."

"You shouldn't have to deal with a color that makes you retch."

"I don't dislike it _that_ much."

"You looked like you were gonna spew naco chunks."

"Did not!" Kim protested.

"Did so."

"Whatever! I can't even spew. Or retch."

"Point and match." Mariko smiled.

Although this discussion was taking place in an empty parking lot, Mariko was, as always, careful to use a language other than English when she and Kim spoke in public. This practice combined with other odd "habits" - some employed in conversing with her invisible best friend and some not - resulted in her reputation as an eccentric or an oddball. However, since the girl was so well liked by practically everybody, she had never been called any of the meaner nicknames that her father had endured when her age - "loser," for example. The fact that she was her father's daughter may have also helped others accept her personality quirks. In addition to helping her maintain "Rufina's" secret identity, Mariko's rep also helped fulfill the Stoppable legacy of never being normal.

"Change it back." Kim insisted. After a few moments of silence as they stared each other down, Kim's lower lip began to tremble.

"Okay, okay!" Mariko cried as she slapped the hood once more changing the car's hue back to that of a pear. "There's no reason to pull the PDP card."

Kim grinned, climbed in through the open driver's side door and crawled into the back seat.

"Solar cells?" Kim asked as she settled into her seat.

"Yup." Mariko nodded as the driver seat's safety belts tightened about her shoulders and hips and clicked into place. "The Sloth is now one hundred percent solar."

"Cool."

"Thumbprint locks, too."

"Very cool."

"Yeah, but I need to get Uncle Wade to add Justy's prints to the Sloth's memory now." She smiled, "If only he had asked me to those dances a few days sooner."

Kim smirked and then eyed the spot where the emergency brake handle had always been.

Following her friend's gaze, Mariko said, "Uh-huh, we have finally joined the 21st century!"

"Hey! _I'm_ from the twenty-first century, too, you know," Kim groused. "The millennium did not turn on the invention of the INERT brake system."

"Whatever."

Despite her apparent insouciance, Kim was very pleased the inertia-negating or INERT brake system had finally been installed in the Sloth. Utilizing an intricate system of magnets and based upon advanced physics so byzantine that even Wade described it as "tricky" to comprehend, the INERT actually reduced the effects of inertia upon passengers when a vehicle was in a collision or had to stop suddenly. For years the revolutionary system was incompatible with cars as ancient as the Sloth, but Wade had finally broken that code. Now of the vehicles driven by her relatives and friends only Ron's pickup and his mother's SUV were INERT-less. Kim hoped the rest of the Stoppable family would allow Wade to see to their "antiques" soon.

Whether this advancement would have any positive effect upon her, Kim wouldn't hazard more than a slight hope, much less risk sitting in the front seat.

"Oh, I almost forgot about my most favorite improvement," Mariko enthused.

"Okay?" Kim asked after a few moments of watching the girl eagerly bounce up and down in her seat (or at least as much as the safety belts would allow her).

"You are so gonna love this. Just sit back and watch." Mariko gestured to the windshield with her right hand as her left hand pressed the center of the steering wheel.

There was a short, almost comical honk from under the hood.

And then for what seemed a long time, nothing happened. In fact, Kim was about to ask if that pitiful beep had been what they were waiting for. Then she saw the first one. Or thought she did. It disappeared so quickly that she wasn't completely sure she had really seen anything. Then there were two more, five, a dozen, and then dozens of dozens. They seemed to be coming from the front of the car at first. Then streams of them fumbled forth from the washer nozzles. Then they began seeping out from the edges of the hood. Finally, the cascade of small, exponentially numerous bubbles covered the windshield and flowed down the back window, effectively swallowing the car whole.

"Doesn't that _so totally kick_!" Mariko squealed, reaching back and playfully punching Kim in the shoulder. After the elation had subsided a little, she explained, "I got the idea from the one on Dad's old scooter, but I made sure Uncle Wade kicked it up a few notches."

"A bubble horn," Kim said after some silence.

"Yep! What do you think?"

"Change the car back to purple," she replied firmly.

III.

One of the most traumatic events in Kim's second life post-Yamanouchi occurred during a brief drive to Justy's house when Mariko was ten. A last minute emergency bank meeting in Lowerton required Barbara Jo to drop her off at the Rentons'. As she sped through the deserted mid-morning streets, she bemusedly eyed her granddaughter in the back seat practicing her conversational Hindi.

"I don't know," Mariko said. "Michelle told me all the instructors there are really mean. And, you know what? That one you had is _still_ there."

"Mrs. _Custer_?" Kim exclaimed. "No way!"

"So way."

"Then that definitely won't work."

It was the second day of summer vacation and Kim and Mariko were discussing whether they could convince Justy to learn to swim that year. Taking lessons at the public pool was obviously out.

"What are we thinking?" Kim said smacking her forehead sharply. "My sis can teach him."

"Oh, right. Doi! Doesn't RP come back from college in two-"

Barbara Jo's eyes returned to the road just as a cat darted into their path. She slammed on her brakes.

After the initial shock of repeatedly slamming between the back of the front seat and her own seat had worn off, Kim realized with detached surprise that she had avoided such a predicament throughout the first three years of her second life. When her momentum slowed and she finally came to a stop, she was dizzy, disoriented, and as nauseous as she could ever remember being.

 _What's the point of feeling this sick when it's impossible for me to_ be _sick?_

She looked up at Mariko, and her pseudo-sickness was quickly forgotten. Tears were streaming down her friend's cheeks.

"Mariko! Mariko!" Barbara Jo cried as she opened the girl's door. "Are you hurt?" When Mariko, still looking at Kim, shook her head, Barbara Jo gently put her arms on the girl's shoulders. "Look at me."

As Kim slowly pulled away from Ron's mother's keening, she took in the obvious fact that the car had stopped. Barbara Jo looked distraught but not as distraught as her granddaughter.

_What must I have looked like?_

The only times she had previously ricocheted through space, Mariko had been in her arms, had been "along for the ride." This time it had only been her and although she had only been aware of her own cries …

_Obviously, I wasn't the only one screaming._

"It's all right, Dear," Barbara Jo consoled. "I didn't hit the cat. He's fine, he's fine. Look at me. Are you hurt?"

Mariko turned her head quickly and aimed her worried eyes at Kim. "Are _you_ hurt?" the girl croaked.

"No." Kim and Barbara Jo replied.

The girl turned and embraced her grandmother who fiercely returned the gesture. After a minute, Mariko had to ask Bubbe to release her. The hug was pulling her into a position where she was getting kinda strangled by the shoulder safety belt she was still wearing.

Once the car started moving again, the color ebbed back into Mariko's features. She looked over to Kim, whispered "Jinx," and slid her fingers underneath her friend's hand.

When Kim gripped Mariko's hand in hers, something terrible occurred to her.

As far as the universe was concerned, she didn't physically exist. Her fiercest punch or kick wouldn't leave so much as an imprint on a pillow. Her impact was felt by nothing and no one.

Except Mariko.

 _What if my trajectory had been even a hair different? What if I collided with_ her _?_

The potential result was too dreadful to contemplate. Accordingly, the solution had to be complete, final.

The decision upset Mariko, but she understood.

Kim didn't ride home with Mariko that night. And, with the exception of riding in the flatbed of Ron's pickup, she didn't travel with her in any vehicle for the next six years.

Only after Bonnie tutored Mariko and Kim's parents had given her the keys to the Sloth for her sixteenth birthday did Kim consent to again ride with her best friend.

In the Sloth's backseat, behind its retractable sheet of Plexiglas.

IV.

When Ron opened Best Friends within a year of his return to Middleton, it had a dinner-only menu and a skeletal staff. The notion of her best friend running a full restaurant where he was the sole cook struck Kim as being inherently insane. Yet doable (for a while at least). And so Ron.

Kim's "fundage" had gone a long way in helping Ron fulfill his dream, but finances were still tight at the very beginning. His mother, Monique, and Team Possible pitched in when they could. And as adorable as the kids were when they played hostesses and kitchen crew on the weekend, they tended to accelerate rather than diminish the chaos. Those first weeks were an exhausting and anxious time for Ron.

Fortunately, the swift and steady business the restaurant received allowed Ron to increase his staff and, importantly, hire an assistance cook. And the repeat business coupled with the word-of-mouth business (two chefs from Chez Couteaux became frequent diners) to enable him to afford a modest-sized staff full time. And the madness subsided.

For about six years. And then the itch began.

Although preparing gourmet meals at casual dining prices was both fulfilling and profitable, Ron still harbored a deep atavistic affection for fast food. A bi-monthly trip to Bueno Nacho and occasional take-out pizza orders notwithstanding, Ron was able to keep such desires off his restaurant's menu and, for the most part, out of his diet. However, this culinary demarcation could not last forever. In retrospect, Kim could never decide whether it was Fate or simply the Ron Factor, but one March evening there happened to be both leftover pizza _and_ leftover Beuno Nacho in the fridge. That same evening Ron came home from BF's to scrounge for a late-night snack. And at the very instant he opened the appliance's door, the light inside burned out.

The resulting moment of confused, darkened fumbling was the genesis for an innovation that would utterly change everything. Well, "everything" in terms of the fast food scene in Middleton.

Cheese, assorted pizza toppings, a grab-bag of Tex-Mex staples, more cheese, tomato sauce, and more cheese all wrapped in a tortilla-shaped pocket of pizza dough: the Burrizza met with some initial skepticism from the members of the test sample Ron gathered.

"Ronnie, I've trusted your instincts ever since I got you that toy oven," Barbara Jo said staring at her plate, "but you've gone too far this time." She took a step away from the table.

"Burrizza?" Bonnie asked picking up hers tentatively. "Maybe the 'Italian-Mexican War' would be a better name."

"Wow," Mariko said between bites, "who knew refried beans and anchovies would go so well together!"

_And I thought the Naco was gross beyond all reason._

"All right!" Ron gave his daughter a high-five. "That's one 'booyah.'"

"Anchovies?" Justy froze.

"Don't worry, JR," Ron reassured him. "Just bacon and pepperoni in yours. How do you like the guac, M?"

"Mmm!" Mariko nodded happily.

"Yep! There's not a more badical taste sensation than when avocado mush collides with smoked pork belly strips wrapped in cheesey goodness!"

"I have no son," Ron's mother said, folding her arms and taking a further step from the table.

"Okay, one 'booyah' and one 'nay,'" Ron replied undaunted.

Although she wore a pleased expression after her first taste, Bonnie's concern was not totally allayed. "No way this could be good for you."

"I'll take that as a 'booyah'," Ron nodded to his friend. "Two-to-one-trending up."

He turned to Justy for a verdict. "Three-to-one? Here, JR," Ron said as he snatched the boy's crumb-strewn plate, "I'll make you another one-Italian sausage this time?"

Barbara Jo could only shake her head.

 _Everyone's_ heads were shaking two weeks later when Ron announced that he had rented the small store-front next to Best Friends and planned on converting it to a lunch counter so he could introduce the Burrizza for the weekday noon rush.

That the Burrizza would sell wasn't even an issue. Rather, it was Ron's decision to run the counter single-handedly without cutting back on his hours at BF's. Friends and relatives told him that he was crazy and needed to hire more staff.

Mariko kidded her father that he might get so exhausted between shifts at the two restaurants that he'd half-consciously roll out a giant tortilla, wrap it around him like a blanket and then curl into the oven for a nap. Most everyone laughed at the idea; Bonnie and Kim didn't. And Mariko confided in Kim later that she had only been half-joking.

As he always had with anything food related, Ron proved them wrong.

Or, at least, it _seemed_ that he had.

For the first three months, Ron was completely in the zone. Day in and day out he met the growing demands of the lunch rush at the The Nosh Hut (christened and decorated by Mariko and Justy) with unbridled enthusiasm. And Kim didn't observe any letdown during his BF shifts either. If anything he reminded her of the Ron that had ruled Bueno Nacho for a few weeks back in high school. And not only because he smelled like refried beans a good part of the time.

Then one Tuesday night he didn't come home.

"Excuse me?" Kim sputtered. The Tuesday in question was a blackout day, so when Mariko nonchalantly mentioned the incident on the walk home from school that Wednesday, she was more than upset.

"Calm down, he did come home," Mariko explained quickly, "but, he didn't … well … _make_ it home."

"Explain." Kim demanded.

"Well, I knew something was off when I got out of the bathroom and didn't smell the kielbasa," Mariko began. Blueberry and Polish sausage pancakes had become a staple of the pair's breakfast during the past year. Much to Kim (and Bonnie's) chagrin.

"At first, I thought he had just overslept, but then I realized how quiet everything was. I couldn't hear his snores."

Kim nodded gravely. If there was one thing that would make her heart pound and her hair stand on end, it would be being inside Ron and Mariko's house and hearing nothing. The two of them were so cacophonous awake or asleep that apart from the house being vacant, only dire and possibly tragic circumstances could render their home quiet and still.

"And then Bubbe scared the heck out of me! It's a miracle I didn't scream and wake her up."

"Huh?"

"She was sleeping on the coach," Mariko explained. "You know, she doesn't make _any_ sound at all when she sleeps? It's unnatural!"

"So she fell asleep waiting up for him?"

Mariko nodded. "Well, then I got _really_ scared. And I didn't know if I should wake up Bubbe because I knew she'd get really upset too. I was about to call Dr. R, but just then I saw our car in the driveway. I ran outside, and that's when I heard him and knew everything was okay. Man, we really have some soundproof windows on our house, I never knew-"

"He was snoring? He fell asleep in the car?"

"Uh-huh."

"What did he say when you woke him up?"

"Well, he seemed pretty upset."

"Good. He should have been."

"Yeah," she smiled, "he told me he was having a dream that he had baked himself inside a giant Burrizza."

Kim was not amused. Despite Mariko's insouciance as she related the story, Kim knew that the girl must have been terribly worried and frightened when she woke up and couldn't find her dad. And for Ron to blow the whole thing off as a joke was unconscionable. What if he had gotten into an accident? Did he even remember driving home? Mariko was wrong; everything was certainly not "okay." Far from it.

"What did your bubbe say?" Kim asked.

"She told him," Mariko said, quickly picking up on her friend's no-nonsense demeanor, "that he needed to hire some help or close down The Hut.

"Let me guess, 'It's a one-time thing, Mom, everything's coolio?'"

"Pretty much."

"Aaaargh! Your dad can be so infuriating! Doesn't he realize how serious this is?"

"He does now, yeah."

"What do you mean?"

"Dr. R made him put up an ad last night."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh, and not just regular staff, either. She made him advertise for an assistant manager to run The Hut three days a week."

"Well, good." Kim said with relief. "Great," she added a moment later with a somewhat fixed smile.

Although part of Kim wanted to give her former rival a high-five, another part of her was annoyed by the significant leverage Bonnie seemed to hold over Ron. She had felt a small flutter of this same feeling when Mariko had mentioned that she had considered calling Bonnie when she couldn't find her father. And when Kim reflected on these moments of annoyance, she was annoyed at herself.

It was in such a state of protracted, multi-leveled annoyance that Kim watched Ron work the Burrizza counter the following day. Perched atop stacks of pre-folder Burrizza boxes that crowded the top of the prep line, Kim could watch over her best friend as he continued to work his second restaurant as a one-man show. As he bounced from the counter to the prep table to the oven, he certainly didn't _seem_ fact, there was a certain degree of grace to how he could take an orders from his v-phone while wielding the peel (or "pizza paddle" as Mariko called it) to simultaneously push in two new Burrizzas and remove two cooked ones from the oven.

The ad for the assistant manager had only been online two days, but Kim, like everyone else in Ron's life, hoped the position got filled as soon as possible.

She could also watch the customers come in through the door across from the lunch counter. Although she hadn't been acquainted with every single person in Middleton during her first lifetime, she knew a great number of them. It was a rare customer who walked into the restaurant that Kim hadn't met or seen at some point in her past, although at times she had difficulty putting a name to a face. A young boy proved very frustrating in that he reminded Kim of two different people. It was only after he sat down to eat at one of the small restaurant's two tables that she realized, with no small degree of surprise, that he was the son of two of her high school classmates. These surprises aside, it proved to be a pleasantly diverting way to pass the time.

And Kim wanted diversion. More and more she found her mind gravitating around Bonnie. And her thoughts were not altogether pleasant ones.

_What is the deal, Possible?_

Bonnie had been a very good friend to both Ron and Mariko for years. She was an excellent pediatrician who really cared about her patients. She was a good, good person. Someone Kim would have been proud to call her friend.

_Still._

Whenever Kim thought about Bonnie lately, she found herself inadvertently clenching her teeth or balling her fists. Or both.

_This is so, so selfish, stupid, and wrong! Perhaps Bonnie and Ron are getting close, but so what? What's wrong with that?_

A few years earlier Ron had briefly gone out with Marcella. And that hadn't bothered Kim at all.

 _Well, not much. Ugh!_ _This is not about me! Stop it, Possible! Stop it now!_

Kim had been so engaged in this internal argument that she failed to notice the beared Asian gentleman who had stepped through the restaurant's door just as her classmates' son exited. If she had, she would had recognized immediately that he bore no resemblance to anyone she had ever met.

Ron, his back to the counter, was sliding two Burrizzas into the oven with the peel as the stranger sauntered up to the counter and spoke.

"So, Outsider," the man asked casually, "how about a slice?"

The stranger careened against the metal garbage can next to the entrance and only avoided hitting the floor by clutching to the back of the booth as he was going down. Ron had been over the counter so swiftly that the man had barely had a chance to react, let alone defend himself against the first blow. And although he had barely regained even a semblance of balance, he was able to dive out of the path of Ron's next strike.

Kim sprung from the top of the prep table to the counter and then leapt to the floor. Almost immediately she realized her mistake. The cramped dining area was far too small for two people to fight, let alone for an additional person to have sufficient space to, to what? She couldn't intervene, so what exactly had she thought she was doing when she jumped into the fray?

Kim desperately tried to avoid the flurry of Ron's strikes as well as his adversary's clumsy blocks and counter-blows. There was so little room that they appeared to be stumbling over each other in tight circles across the tiny dining area. Pushed to the edge of the melee by the piercing from their vying keens, Kim clambered atop the counter and anxiously waited for the fight's conclusion.

She didn't have to wait long.

With an ungraceful lunge that owed more to football practice than ninja training, Ron grabbed his opponent around the shoulders from behind and then shoved him to the floor. A second later, he snatched the stranger up and threw him against the tabletop.

Landing among the debris scattered on the un-bussed table, the man didn't even try to sit up. He just lay on his back, gasping for breath.

Displaying no such signs of exhaustion, Ron quickly walked back around the counter, picked up the peel, and strode back toward his victim.

"Ron! No!" Kim yelled as she jumped from the counter to block his way. Although she had no idea who the man was or Ron's reason for attacking him, the stranger was clearly no longer a threat. Ron had soundly defeated him. The only reason to come at him now with the shovel-like baking tool would be to inflict serious injury. Or worse.

Futilely holding out her hands, Kim was swiftly overcome by Ron's keening and then rudely shoved aside by his boundary. After hitting the wall and then landing on her rear, she quickly scrambled to her feet just as Ron had reached the man's defenseless form. Holding either ends of its long shaft in his hands, Ron pressed the pole firmly against the man's chest.

"No! Stop it!" Kim cried beside him.

With renewed energy, the stranger gripped Ron's hands and tried to push the peel from his chest. For a few seconds, it seemed that he was making some progress. Then, with no sign of increased effort, Ron brought the pole back down upon the man and slowly repositioned it so that it was moving toward the man's exposed throat.

"Ron, you'll kill him!" Kim raised her voice to a scream, an instinctive response to make herself heard over the shrieks of the keening. "Stop!" She desperately reached for the peel, only to be knocked back across the room and into the counter by the two men's boundaries.

For a split second, Kim was reduced to the same hysterical despair she had felt when she first awakened in Ron's cells at Yamanouchi. Only this moment seemed far worse. She was watching Ron, her Ron, murder someone. And she could do nothing to stop it. She closed her eyes and covered her ears.

Waiting in the darkness behind her eyelids was the nearly-forgotten memory of Ron carrying her down the darkened bleachers at the football field. It had been the night of the practice for the big Upperton game. Ron had believed she was asleep, and she had been more than happy to let him think so. The warm giddiness she'd felt as he'd gently cradled her in his arms had been so worth it.

_No._

Kim stood up and walked to the table. She refused to believe that Ron would do it. Although she couldn't stop him, she knew that something would. Something within himself.

The croaking sounds coming from the other man weren't encouraging, but Kim was relieved to see that the pole was still on his chest, not at his neck.

"M-m-m," the man was struggling to speak.

"What's that, Fukushima?" Ron hissed. "Mercy?"

"Fukushima?" Kim blinked.

"You want to know _why_ I'm showing you mercy?" Ron asked.

Fukushima, still trying to wrench the peel from Ron's grip, shook his head from side to side.

"Right," Ron nodded. "How _could_ I show mercy to a lackey of the man who killed the love of my life?" he demanded coldly.

For a moment everything seemed to stop. It wasn't even clear that either man was breathing. And the only thing Kim was conscious of was the pulse in her eyes.

However, the flash of genuine confusion these words had produced in Fukushima's features was the tipping point. Ron gradually eased the pressure against the man's chest. And, finally, he took up the peel and stepped back.

"What?" Fukushima coughed as he sat up on the table. "I don't know-what are you-? No, no, Stoppable-san, I just wanted to see if -," he coughed again and beat a fist against his chest. "My wife."

"Y-your wife?" Ron asked

Fukushima nodded. "I wanted to see if you could give my wife a job." The final word came out with a bitter laugh that quickly dissolved into another cough.

"R-really? Are you serious?"

"Yes, Stoppable-san, really." Taking another breath, Fukushima raised his eyes to Ron's. "I saw your ad online. And I thought that since we're both Yamanouchi renegades…"

"That what?" Ron interrupted. "That you'd have an 'in' with me?"

"Actually, yes," Fukushima said and then dropped his gaze.

"You have so got to be kidding me!" Kim was still trying to comprehend everything that had gone down in the past five minutes. That this violent confrontation had been set into motion by a job search was beyond surreal. However, even that revelation could not compare to the jolt Ron's pronouncement had caused her. Those reverberations were being felt still.

Ron, who had been regarding Fukushima gravely, suddenly went pale and began to rub the back of his neck. "Uh, your wife?"

"Yes," Fukushima nodded. "She's got exemplary references, not that I suspect they will matter- "

"No," Ron interrupted. "Is _that_ your wife?" He pointed out the restaurant's window.

"Oh my God," Kim breathed.

Peering over the kidney-shaped Burrizza Mariko had painted on the window a few months back, stood an extremely distraught-looking young woman. She was two shades paler than Ron and was trembling. And, unless Kim was greatly mistaken, the belly bump clearly visible beneath the illustrated Burrizza indicated that she was in her second trimester at least.

It wasn't clear how much of the fight she had seen, but she had definitely seen more than she should have.

"Chickpea!" Fukushima exclaimed to the frightened woman. "Hey, I was just discussing it with Stoppable-san," he said with forced elation and then pointed over his shoulder to Ron. "And, well, I'm afraid," he paused, apparently searching for the right words, "it just isn't going to work out."

The woman didn't reply; she didn't appear to have heard. Her eyes were roaming over her husband and the debris-strewn dining area. When they finally ceased, they asked, no, pleaded for an explanation.

"Oh, this!" Fukushima gestured lamely to his disheveled hair and bruised face. "Just a couple of ex-ninjas getting it on for old time's sake." He began wiping the grease-soaked napkins and uneaten scraps of Burrizza from his pants distractedly. "Uh, it's, uh, …" he shot Ron a desperate look.

"Tradition," Ron announced suddenly with enthusiastic nods. "That's all. Kinda like a secret handshake." He awkwardly put his arm around Fukushima's shoulder in a gambit to express camaraderie. For his part, Fukushima managed to smile through the subsequent pain this gesture caused him. "Ask her to come in," Ron whispered.

"What?" Fukushima whispered through a clenched smile. "Are you serious?"

"Go on, do it," Ron whispered/clenched back.

After a prolonged moment, Fukushima nodded and then went to invite his wife inside as Ron started busing the tables.

Regine was understandably not eager to come inside. However, when she glanced through the door and saw Ron absent-mindedly sweeping the floor with the peel, she relented. ("I don't know why," she explained later to her bemused husband, "but seeing him do that set me at ease.")

Regardless, they reiterated the "Tradition of Ninja Throw-Down" when they realized she had not heard a word they had said through the window. Fortunately, Ron and Fukushima were able to provide enough back story to the "tradition" to make it seem somewhat plausible. Even still, Regine would periodically pause, look at the pleasant expressions of her husband and Ron, and then frown as if she was picking up on the unspoken tension hovering about them.

This distinct sense of unease was not lost on Kim, either. Perched on the countertop, she sat perfectly still for hours watching the two former Yamanouchi students trade wary looks. The feeling of ill-ease did not abate even after the dinner crew arrived at Best Friends and Ron began introducing everyone to The Nosh Hut's new assistant manager.

V.

While the Sloth's wipers chased off the remaining bubbles, Mariko and Kim talked about the awkward time Justy had had in English class that day. Principal Barkin had substituted for Mrs. Baker yet again. After the obligatory pop quiz, Barkin decided that the best way to approach the play they were studying, _Hamlet_ , was to have randomly-selected students read the play aloud. Justy, who always had a difficult time speaking in class, was, of course, picked to read for the prince. Immediately, Barkin was on his case for not projecting his voice so everyone could hear him. Fortunately, Mariko was able to redirect the Principal's displeasure toward herself when she began reading the part of Horatio in a high squeaky voice.

"Poor Justy," Kim sighed. "You'd think Barkin's teaching skills would have improved over the past thirty years."

Mariko nodded and a silence fell between them.

"I think I know what I want to be." Mariko said as she started the car.

"Princess Nausicaa?" Kim ventured. Halloween was only two Fridays after the Spirit Dance, and, like Ron and Kim, Justy and Mariko had taken the trick-or-treating tradition into their high school years. Mariko had given Justy a poster for _Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind_ for Christmas three years back, and as far as Kim knew, it was still his favorite film. The idea of Mariko dressing as the heroine of her best friend's/boyfriend's favorite movie had just occurred to her. And it seemed perfect.

"Huh?" The befuddled look on the girl's face was pure Ron.

"Justy's favorite movie. You know, with those giant multi-eyed beetles in it," Kim explained suppressing a shudder. Truthfully, she had been icked out by the poster and tended to gravitate away from it whenever she happened to be in Justy's room.

Mariko's expression fell somewhere in the gap between "confused" and "blank."

"Just a guess," Kim shrugged. "Did you have another costume in mind?"

"Oh!" Mariko exclaimed with a mild, inadvertent snort. "You're talking about Halloween."

"Well, yeah, weren't you?"

The girl didn't reply at first, a whimsical expression spreading across her face. "Wow." She said finally. "That would be so cool, wouldn't it? Justy would flip."

"I'm sure he would," Kim nodded, "but what were you talking about?"

Mariko snapped out of her brief daze and put the car into reverse. "Oh, I was just talking about the vocation I've chosen," she said absently as she looked over her shoulder to see if she was clear to back out. "You know, I could probably get his mom to do the designs for the costume."

"Wait just a minute!"

"Well, why not? I mean he's got a poster of Nausicaa on his wall. She goes into his room all the time anyway, it'd be no big for her to cop a look-"

"No, no," Kim said, "did you just say that you've decided what you're going to be?"

"Oh yeah, that."

At moments like this, Kim seriously wondered whether Mariko was more exasperating than her father had been at her age.

"Well?" Kim asked with a mixture of rising annoyance and percolating eagerness.

Mariko put the car back in park and then stared in her lap for a few beats. When she turned back to face Kim, her expression was all elation and light. "I want to do what my mom did."

* * *

To be continued ...


	27. Twenty-five

I.

It was the first chance they had had to be alone for what seemed like forever. For what had in fact been months-ever since they had returned from Japan. And, ironically, as far as Kim was concerned, the place they got to spend this quality time was somewhere she had always done her best to avoid while she was alive. Still, it made perfect sense.

_Or Ronsense._

When Barbara Jo had given Ron the keys to her SUV and ordered him to go out with Mariko for the afternoon while she looked after the rest of the children, there had been little doubt where he would end up going. Kim just hadn't anticipated it being his _first_ stop.

_Smarty Mart._

However, now that they were there, she felt to her great surprise a pleasant sense of nostalgia for the place. She was even more surprised when she traced the source for these feelings. The combo scent of stale popcorn, bubblegum, and overcooked hot dogs was everywhere, and it actually smelled _good_ to her. And this struck her as seriously whack until she realized that this was same aroma that permeated Ron's clothes whenever he got off work Senior Year.

The megastore revealed it even had the power to make her wistful when Ron took Mariko to see where he used to work back in the pet department. Where he had first met Rufus.

Even though that had been a bittersweet moment, it felt really, really good to get away for a few hours to be together again. The three of them.

_Well, okay, the two of them._

Kim had to keep reminding herself that she was excluded. It was only Mariko and Ron. Ron and Mariko only. Sure, often it was also Mariko and Kim. But it would never be Mariko and Ron _and Kim_.

_Why can't I keep that straight?_

"Who's that man?" Mariko asked looking first at Ron and then to Kim. She was walking between them, holding hands. Ron had become so accustomed to Mariko holding "Rufina's" hand that he barely gave the odd gesture a second glance. Although he still did on occasion.

The little girl let go of her father's hand and pointed to a display of illuminated Santas a few aisles up on their left. The plastic figures were arranged like bowling pins.

Kim shook her head; the Christmas decorations had been so omnipresent in the store that she had barely noticed them, let alone considered what Mariko would make of them. She was about explain, but then thought twice. Even if Ron didn't officially celebrate Christmas, it was really a parent's place to explain who jolly St. Nick was to his child. "I think maybe your daddy should tell you," she said.

"What did you say, honey?" Ron said, staring off to the left.

"Who is that old man in red?" Mariko asked.

"I think," Ron replied slowly, "I think it's Mr. Barkin."

"Mr. Barkin?" Kim started and then followed the direction of Ron's gaze. Down the aisle immediately to their left, a man with a graying buzz cut dressed in a red Smarty Mart vest was slowly walking in their direction. For a second Kim wasn't certain Ron was right. Although the man matched what she remembered to be Mr. Barkin's body type, something about him struck her as being off. When she realized her confusion was due to the fact that Mr. Barkin was actually smiling in their direction, she laughed.

"Is Mr. Barkin funny?" Mariko asked still looking at the plastic Santas. "And why is he all over the place?"

Kim was about to explain when -

"Ron? Ron Stoppable?" By the time Kim recognized this unexpected voice and determined from what direction it was coming, the keening had already enveloped her and she was spiraling across the floor toward the Santa "pins."

"B-Bonnie?" Kim heard Ron stammer as she climbed to her knees. Fortunately, neither her trajectory nor her momentum had been severe, so she had been able to regain control quickly. Unfortunately, the sight of a twenty-something Bonnie Rockwaller giving Ron a tight embrace made her wish she had been sent ricocheting across the store for hours.

"Rufina! Rufina! Are you okay?" Mariko asked as she rushed to Kim's side.

"Yeah," Kim nodded to the floor. "I'm okay."

"This is probably not the best time," Kim heard Mr. Barkin say. Apparently, he didn't want to intrude on Bonnie and Ron's reunion. Memories of the Homecoming debacle flashed through Kim's mind and, for the first time since they had left Yamanouchi, she felt her bile starting to rise.

"Mr. Barkin?" Bonnie exclaimed.

Kim looked up and saw Bonnie pulling Mr. Barkin into a hug that seemed just as tight as the one she had given Ron.

_Okay, that's weird._

"Ah, yes, good to see you too, uh," Mr. Barkin said with some difficulty as he was being squeezed, "Miss Rockwaller." An instant after she released him, he followed-up, "It is still Miss _Rockwaller_ , right?"

Bonnie nodded.

"I remember you got accepted at Go City U, right?" he continued.

"Undergrad, yes," Bonnie replied.

"You knocked down Rufina," Mariko huffed at Bonnie's feet.

_Whoa!_

Kim hadn't realized that the little girl had left her side.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Rufina," Bonnie said as she crouched down to the girl's level. She then turned her head sharply back to Ron. "Rufina?"

"No, no,'" Ron began, " _Her_ name's not Rufina."

"Yes, it is, daddy," Mariko insisted turning to look back at Kim.

Kim walked quickly over to the group and knelt down next to her friend. "I think he's talking about you," she whispered.

"That's the name of Mariko's imaginary friend," Ron explained.

"Mariko?" Bonnie beamed at the little girl. "That's such a beautiful name. Hello, Mariko, my name is Bonnie." She held out her hand. "Your daddy and I went to school together."

Although Kim was still confused and more than a little suspicious of her former rival's exuberant display of good will, she did not approve of Mariko's apparent refusal to shake Bonnie's hand. "It's no big, Mariko," she whispered. "She didn't mean to knock me down."

_Although I can remember plenty of times when she did._

Mariko relented and shook hands with Bonnie Rockwaller.

"Nice to meet you," Bonnie said. "Is Rufina still around?"

Mariko nodded.

"Where?"

Kim was still musing about all the knocks Bonnie had given her back when she was alive that she was startled when she looked up and found Bonnie staring directly into her eyes.

"I'm so sorry for knocking you down, Rufina," Bonnie said.

It wasn't just that Bonnie's eyes seemed locked with Kim's that made the moment so jarring. The momentary suspicion that Bonnie was actually looking at Kim-that she could _see_ her-was dispelled quickly by the fact that the latter's gaze began drifting almost immediately.

However, the supreme surprise remained. The look Bonnie was giving what she thought was empty space was genuine. It wasn't condescending or blank; she wasn't trying to fake out the little girl with a false show of concern for her imaginary friend. Instead, her eyes were looking as if they expected to see someone. As if they _wanted_ to see someone.

Kim gave the woman a quick glance from head to toe. Everything indicated that this was the same Bonnie Rockwaller that she had known back in high school. But when Kim returned to her eyes, she couldn't be certain. They belonged to someone Kim didn't know.

Someone she felt compelled to answer.

"It's okay," she said finally.

"Rufina says she's okay," Mariko said happily.

"I'm so glad," Bonnie said, turning back to the girl.

"Mariko's my daughter,' Ron explained.

Bonnie glanced from father to daughter with what Kim perceived as a trace of the "good old B" in her smile. But she only said, "Yes, I had guessed that."

"Uh, yeah," Ron laughed and gave the back of his neck a quick rub. "And, Mariko, this is Mr. Barkin, my old teacher."

The older man bent down to one knee and gave Mariko's hand a slight shake. "Pleasure. Are you keeping your dad on the ball?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded. "What happened to your beard?"

_Uh oh._

Mr. Barkin frowned and gave Ron a quick look. Then he smiled again and explained, "Well, I shave it off. As I can see, your father has informed you that I have to shave several times every day."

"Oh," Mariko nodded. "Well, what happened to your curly hair?"

"Curly hair? Stoppable, _what_ have you been telling this child about me?" He was now glaring at Ron.

"Nothing," Ron said with a touch of high school defiance in his voice. "She asked me who you were, and I just told her your name."

"Then how did she know about my facial hair condition, Stoppable?" Barkin replied with more than a touch of his school administrator authority in his voice.

Thinking quickly, Kim said to Mariko, "Sweetie, show daddy the old man in red and ask him who he is again."

Mariko hurried over to the display of Santas and called back to her father. Unfortunately, her father was too engrossed in the escalation with Mr. Barkin to hear her question.

Fortunately, Bonnie did hear her.

"Uh, guys?" Bonnie asked as she, with Mariko's help, placed one of the plastic figures between Ron's and Mr. Barkin's feet. "I think this is what Mariko was talking about."

"What?" Mr. Barkin said distracted.

"Huh?" Ron asked.

"Who is this old man in red?" Mariko asked.

"Ooooh, now I get it," Ron said, giving his forehead a smack. "She was asking about Santa Claus, and I thought she was talking about you!" He chuckled.

"Real funny, Stoppable," Mr. Barkin said tersely. "Real funny."

The uncomfortable silence was broken by a squawk from the store's antiquated PA system. "An associate is needed in Pets and Housewares."

"Duty calls," Barkin said. He nodded courteously to Bonnie and Mariko. "Ma'am, Miss." Then he locked eyes with Ron for a long second, "Stoppable." He turned and marched down the aisle from which he came.

"Maaaan," Ron groaned.

"What's wrong, daddy?"

"Nothing, honey."

"I'm sure he'll get over it," Bonnie offered.

"I don't know. I've always had the worst luck with that guy."

"I sometimes wondered what was up between you two," Bonnie said.

"Well, it all goes back to picture day Freshman Year and the 'hand gesture' I made."

"What gesture?" Bonnie asked.

"A 'thumbs up,'" Ron sighed.

"Is that bad?" Mariko.

"Not that I'm aware of," Ron said before lifting up the Santa Claus. "Well, let's put this guy back where you got him."

Kim tugged on Mariko's sleeve. "Ask him again."

"Oh! Daddy, who _is_ Santa Claus."

"Oh yeah," Ron replied, positioning the figure in his hands, so he was looking at it face-to-face. "He's one of Snowman Hank's friends."

"Really? Did he help Snowman Hank save Christmas?" Mariko asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Ron replied distractedly as he set the decoration back just so in its display, "he helped out a little."

Kim smacked herself in the forehead.

_Maybe I should have her ask Mom who Santa is._

"So, uh, Bonnie, did I hear Barkin right? You live in Go City now?" Ron asked.

"I did. But now that I'm done with school, I've moved back."

"Cool. Cool. Got your own place?"

Bonnie nodded. "Apartment on the edge of Upperton. Oh! Let me give you my number."

Kim was still trying to come to grips with how abnormal Bonnie was behaving. It was decidedly eerie. Not only had she not made any snarky comments, she wasn't even giving off any snarky vibes.

"Actually, I don't have a v-phone yet," Ron explained.

"Neither do I," Bonnie said casually. "Here's my pager number." She gave him a business card.

"Pager!" Ron and Kim cried in unison.

Although she was still examining the plastic Santa Claus, Mariko spun on her heel and cried "Jinx!"

Bonnie gave Mariko a bemused look.

"Wait, wait," Ron said shaking his head, "you just said that you didn't have a v-phone."

"Right."

"No, cell phone either?"

"No."

"But you have a pager?"

"Yes."

"As in a _real_ pager?"

She nodded.

"P-a-g-e-r."

"Y-e-s." Bonnie took the small black device from her purse and showed it to him. "It's through my office."

"What _is_ a pager?" Mariko asked. "Can I see it?"

"Sure," Bonnie said, handing her the pager.

"Wow, it's heavy!" She turned it over in her hands. "Cheap Sat," she read aloud.

Still puzzled, Ron glanced at the card Bonnie had given him and then cried, " _Doctor_ Rockwaller?"

"What?" Kim cried. "Bonnie's _a doctor_?"

"Are you a doctor?" Mariko asked, touching Bonnie's hand.

"Yes, I am, Mariko," Bonnie smiled down at the girl.

"Yes, she is, Rufina." Mariko smiled up at Kim.

"Wow. Wow. That's-that's awesome." Ron exclaimed.

"Thanks, Ron."

Peering at Bonnie's card over Ron's shoulder, Kim was even more surprised to discover what type of doctor she was.

_A pediatrician? That's crazy._

It was common knowledge on the cheer squad, that Bonnie Rockwaller was the only member who refused to babysit. Even relatives-Liz had babysat Bonnie's younger cousins. Although the brunette gave the impression that an abundance of social commitments was the reason, Kim had suspected it was because Bonnie didn't like kids. Perhaps that had been an incorrect assumption, as well as an unkind one.

"I'd give you my number," Ron explained, "but I'm still hanging at my mom's place, and, well, I don't … remember our number." He paused. "Although I'm sure it's in the book." He paused again. "They still print that book don't they?"

"Yes, I think so," Bonnie said with a grin that might have been snarky if there had been a touch of malice in it. But there wasn't one. "Oh, so you just moved back into town, too?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I'm just crashing at Mom's until things get straight, and we can get a place of our own."

"Well, that's nice."

The awkward silence that immediately followed this statement threatened to become an awkward lull, but then Bonnie smiled and gave Ron a gentle smack on the arm. "Although I'm sure your wife isn't overly thrilled with it."

_Oh no._

"That reminds me," Bonnie continued, "I still haven't met her. It's Yori, isn't it? Is she here?"

"Uh," Ron looked extremely uncomfortable.

"My mommy's dead," Mariko explained with a slight dip in her voice as she handed back the pager. "Thank you." She looked up at Bonnie kindly.

But Bonnie didn't see the girl's expression. Her eyes were shut. Squeezed tight actually. Her lips were pursed, too.

"Bonnie?" Ron asked after a moment.

She opened her eyes, but shook her head from side to side.

"It's okay, Bonnie. Well, no, it's not okay, but, you know, it's okay that you didn't know."

"I need to get going," she said quickly. "It was nice to see you. Good to meet you, Mariko." She walked down the same aisle Barkin had, but then stopped suddenly, turned and waved good-bye to them and then disappeared down a cross-aisle on the right.

Mariko looked up at her father and then at Kim as they both stared to where Bonnie had fled. Finally, she said, "She was nice."

"Yeah," the both replied slowly, absently.

As they spoke, the little girl could sense sadness coming from her father and her best friend. And although she didn't know what it was about, she understood enough that she only whispered, "Jinx."

II.

As they continued to make their way through the store, Kim could see that Mariko was still very interested in the holiday decorations that were draped along every aisle. When the little girl lingered before a small blue and white menorah display strangely framed by a herd of green and red reindeer, she felt certain that Mariko was going to ask her daddy about it. However, when Ron called to her, she hurried to catch up with him without saying a word.

Kim consoled herself with the thought that the holidays were still a long way off. In fact, it wasn't officially even fall yet. There would be time.

A vision of the Stoppable household in late December came to her. Falling snow was visible through the windows and warm flickering shadows were cast about the room from the fireplace. The family menorah was in its accustomed place in the center of the coffee table. However, there was also a small Christmas tree in the corner next to the fire. Most of the children from Yamanouchi were tumbling across the room; instead of hanging their stockings, most were playing tag with them. Rina, who was wearing a Santa hat, was showing Daisuke how to string popcorn. And Mariko was lying before the fire writing a letter to Snowman Hank.

In this idyllic tableau, Kim was sitting before the fire, helping Mariko with her letter. The pleasant warmth from the fire encouraged Kim to roll her pants legs up to her knees. It felt so good to be inside. She looked back to the windows and began wondering where Ron could be. Mariko had just asked her how to spell a word when the front door opened and Ron entered, burdened with presents. After setting some of them down before the tree and the rest on the table before the menorah, he sat cross legged next to Mariko. Kim watched as Daisuke and a few of the younger children began turning the packages over in their hands in mild confusion.

"Everything going well, Punky Monkey?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded happily without looking up.

"Telling Snowman Hank you've been a good girl?"

She smiled at her father and then looked at Kim.

"Merry Christmas," Kim said.

"Merry Christmas, Rufina."

"Happy Hanukkah, Ron," Kim said turning to Ron.

Ron reached out and gently squeezed Kim's shoulder.

"Rufina!"

Kim shook her head. She had no idea how long she had been in the reverie or how long the little girl had been calling her. However, she and Ron were a good thirty feet ahead down the aisle.

"I'm coming," she called back, and then Mariko, Ron, Smarty Mart, and everything else vanished.

III.

Suddenly, Kim was staring into the gore-ridged sockets of a grinning skull. The sight was so shocking and unexpected that she sprang away from the skeleton, an alarmed cry escaping her lips.

"Rufina!"

She turned around and saw Mariko and Rina sitting on a leather couch.

The three of them were in a white hallway. Almost immediately, Kim recognized the faint smell that she had always associated with either her mother or with hospitals. A surreptitious glance back at the "skeleton" revealed that it was merely a life-sized medical chart. In addition to bones, it also illustrated muscles, blood vessels, and nerves.

"Mariko," she said as she composed herself. "Hey."

"Hi," Mariko replied. "Are you okay? That poster didn't scare you, did it?"

"Well," Kim admitted as she stepped around Rina's keening, "it did surprise me. How long have I been away?"

"Only three days," Mariko said with an easy smile.

Kim had noticed that Mariko was handling her absences much better since they returned to Middleton. This was probably due to the fact that the little girl was no longer so alone. And although Kim hadn't brought up the issue, she suspected that Mariko was pretty confident whenever Kim vanished that she was eventually going to return.

_If I could only be so certain._

Kim was pretty sure they were in a doctor's office, but any fears that someone was hurt were belied by Mariko's good mood. "Mariko, what are we doing here?"

"Getting a check-up," Mariko explained happily. "We all are. Rina and I are next."

Kim remembered the little girl telling her about the physical the children had undergone a few days after they entered the country. Although the GJ medics were undoubtedly thorough, Kim was pleased to see that Ron, or his mother, were following the tests up with a visit to a pediatrician.

And she had a pretty good hunch who the pediatrician might be.

"Dr. R!" Mariko exclaimed suddenly, hopping to the floor.

Kim turned in the direction of the little girl's gaze and, sure enough, Bonnie had just entered the hallway from a side door. Dressed in casual professional attire, she still didn't give Kim the impression of being a doctor. In fact, she looked as if she could just as easily have been a bank teller or an administrative assistant. Kim didn't believe this thought was a _consciously_ snarky one although she couldn't completely rule out their past animus as a factor in this estimation.

And then she picked up on two details of Bonnie's appearance that distinctively reminded her of the "old Bonnie." One, she was wearing a wireless earpiece that seemed to belie her "no cell phone" claim. And, two, her expression, unlike the previous day at Smarty Mart, was most definitely an unpleasant one.

"Dr. R!" Mariko cried again and waved.

"Not so loud, Mariko-chan," Rina whispered. "The doctor is busy. You needn't bother her."

However, when Bonnie noticed Mariko, her expression immediately softened. "Oh, good morning, Mariko," she said pleasantly. "That's right; I had heard that you were seeing Dr. Russell this morning."

"Uh-huh, we all are. My Bubbe says that he was my daddy's doctor when he was little too.

_Dr. Russell? He's still alive?_

Kim could remember Ron telling her about this doctor when they were little. Although she had never met the man herself, she recalled Ron insisting that he was "at least two hundred years old" and looked just like the Mad Hatter from Kim's copy of _Alice in Wonderland._

"You all are?" Bonnie asked looking up at Rina.

"Yes," Mariko replied. "Me and all my friends from Yamanouchi. Rina," she pointed to Rina. Bonnie and the young girl exchanged brief "Hi's" and then Mariko continued. "Takeshi, Nobu, Nami, Daisuke, and Suki."

"Wow. Is Dr. Russell seeing _all_ of your friends this morning?"

"No, he's just seeing Daisuke, Rina and me this morning. He's seeing Takeshi, Nobu, and Nami this afternoon. My daddy is in there with Daisuke right now because he's so little."

"I see. Well, take it easy on Dr. Russell." Bonnie looked like she was about to leave, but then she paused and asked, "Is Rufina here?"

"Yes," Mariko nodded. "She's right here." Mariko pointed to Kim.

"Well, good morning Rufina," Bonnie said pleasantly. Once again, she was eye level with Kim and this produced a somewhat disconcerting effect. But not too much.

"Good morning, Bonnie."

"Ohhh, can you give me a test?" Mariko asked.

"Test?" Bonnie asked.

"A doctor test. To check my heart." She placed her right hand on her chest and explained, "You know with a sphygmomanometer."

"Sphygmomanometer?" Kim, Bonnie, and Rina said in unison.

No one blinked when Mariko announced, "Jinx!"

"Where did you learn that word, Mariko-chan?" Rina asked.

Mariko shrugged.

"The sphygmomanometer checks blood pressure," Bonnie explained as her hand fished in her left pockets. "I think you mean a stethoscope." She produced a small silver disc from her pocket and knelt next to Mariko.

"Yeah, a stethoscope!"

Bonnie placed the disc against Mariko's chest, and a small amber light on its back began to blink rapidly. Kim noticed that almost immediately a small amber light on the top of Bonnie's earpiece began to blink as well.

"Sounds healthy and busy," Bonnie said. She then looked to Rina and held out the disc with an offering gesture.

Rina smiled but shook her head.

"Would Rufina like a test, too?" Bonnie asked Mariko with a smile.

"I don't think it would work," Mariko said looking up at Kim.

Kim nodded in agreement. Still, the question made her reflect, and not for the first time, on the inexplicable fact that although she was dead, she definitely still _had_ a pulse.

"Dr. Rockwaller?"

Kim looked up and noticed a young woman standing at the end of the hallway. She was wearing a wireless headset. A receptionist, Kim supposed.

"Sorry, girls," Bonnie said standing up. "I've got to take care of something."

As she passed, Kim noticed that Bonnie's face had a definitely tweaked aspect to it.

"Mariko," Kim asked, "why are you calling her 'Dr. R' and not 'Bonnie?'"

The little girl beckoned Kim to lean over and then whispered. "Daddy said it showed more respect. Since she's a doctor."

"Oh. I see." It was just like Ron to think that a nickname (albeit one with a title) was the more proper way to address someone. "Well, wouldn't Dr. Russell also be Dr. R?" Kim asked.

A puzzled look crossed Mariko's face, but then her expression cleared as if she had suddenly hit upon the solution to this nickname conundrum.

"Will you shut up and listen to me!"

The shrillness of this sudden cry made both Mariko and Rina jump. It was coming from around the corner that Dr. R and the receptionist had just disappeared.

" _Who_ is that?" Mariko asked as the voice continued to unload a barrage of snark-infused abuse against its mute target.

"Let me check it out," Kim said after a moment. "Stay right here."

Kim, of course, knew it was Bonnie. Setting the tone and pitch aside, the word choice was vintage Queen 'B.' Innumerable times Kim and (especially) Ron had been on the receiving end of just such a torrent haughty sarcasm.

"Okay, fine. What I need from you now is a systematic breakdown of **exactly what your damage is**!"

Whatever the receptionist had done or not done, Kim was confidant that she so didn't deserve the attitude Bonnie was giving her. However, the very familiar sense of outrage Kim felt as she reached the hall's corner was intermixed with one of disappointment. Part of her had sincerely wanted to believe that her bitter rival had left her mean-spiritedness in the past.

"As if I've got a choice!" Bonnie yelled as Kim turned the corner. Her back to Kim, Bonnie was spewing her venom at the receptionist.

However, instead of cringing, the woman was wearing a look of hopeful anticipation. Then Kim noticed Bonnie was wearing the woman's headset. Bonnie cupped a hand over its microphone and said in a low voice, "He's getting his supervisor."

After a few seconds, Bonnie shifted back into snark mode. "Yes, this is _Doctor_ Rockwaller. That's R-o-c-k-w-a-l-l-e-r. And just to be safe, 'Doctor' is d-o-c-t-o-r. Problem? Well, there isn't a 'problem,' ma'am. Your obtuse peon was just explaining to me why the deliberately obscure and draconian rules of your company's policy is threatening the life of a patient. And I would just like to know why. Or, at the very least, how to spell _your_ name so I can give it the boy's parents when I break the news that he won't be getting the treatment that might save his life."

The rapid fire delivery of the diatribe did nothing to undermine the lacerating power of each of its words.. And Kim was not surprised when the tone of Bonnie's next statement was one of saccharine-veiled triumph.

"That would be most appreciated, thank you. So the procedure should be filed under code CD9X23 on the claim? Let me repeat that."

Bonnie repeated the code and the receptionist eagerly typed it in on her PDA.

"No, no, not at all," Bonnie said condescendingly. "Thank _you_." Then she muttered softly, yet in a clearly audible voice, "Loser," pressed a button on the side of the headset, and gave the receptionist a high-five.

"Thank you so, so much," the receptionist said, taking her headset back from Bonnie. "The patient's parents have been trying to get this approved by their insurance for weeks!"

"Not at all," Bonnie said, "Any time those bloodsuckers give you trouble, send them to me."

Kim nodded approvingly as the brunette turned and walked back down the hall toward Mariko and Rina.

_I'm impressed, Bonnie. You're actually using your powers for good._

IV.

Kim was standing at the top of the stairs overlooking the Stoppables' living room. The place was packed, and the stereo was playing at top volume.

As the sense of disorientation from this latest "black out" ebbed away, Kim recognized several of the people in the room below her. She picked out her brothers almost immediately. Then she saw Hope, Tara, and Liz from her old squad.

_Wow!_

And Liz was pregnant.

She spotted Justy before she found his dad. Monique was by the empty fireplace chatting with a woman Kim didn't recognize. As her eyes scanned the crowd over the next few minutes, other faces from her high school days slowly made themselves plain. Everyone was talking over what Kim now recognized as an Oh Boyz song blaring from the speakers. She didn't see Bonnie.

From her previous "black outs" Kim knew to stay pretty much where she was. Time and again, she had appeared right where she had needed to be. Besides, she didn't have many options. There was no way she would venture into the crowd. Fortunately, the landing was high enough that she was out of everyone's keening range.

As she waited in measured anticipation for the purpose behind this appearance to manifest itself, she reflected how different the living room looked compared to the Christmas fantasy she had entertained only moments earlier. The proportions in the vision had been totally off-the room was both larger and longer than she had envisioned. It was then she noticed that the dining room table had been moved to a spot adjacent to the foot of the stairs and was serving as a de facto buffet table of pizza and nacos. And it was festooned with birthday balloons.

 _How long have I been gone_ this _time?_

"Rufina! Rufina!"

Mariko was jumping up and down in directly beneath her. The little girl was holding little Daisuke by the hand.

"Hello, Sweetie!" Kim called back over the music.

"How do you like daddy's party?"

"I do." She nodded. "Birthday party?"

"Uh-huh, it's a surprise!"

"How long have been gone?"

"Two days!" Mariko shouted back happily.

 _Huh?_ "But your daddy's birthday is in October!"

The little girl nodded. "I know. This is his _surprise_ birthday!"

"Oh. I see!" Kim wondered if it had been Barbara Jo or rather Monique who had masterminded the party. And set the date. "Where's your daddy?" she called down.

"I don't know. You want me to look for him?"

"No, that's okay."

"I'm glad you made it, Rufina!"

"Me too, Sweetheart!"

Mariko waved, and then Daisuke, who had been very patient during the conversation, also waved in Kim's general direction. And then they weaved their way back into the center of the crowd.

Kim caught sight of Ron entering the room from the kitchen. A glance toward the closing door told her that it was almost as crowded as the living room. She watched him pick his way toward the buffet. He looked genuinely happy and relaxed. Kim was especially pleased to see this second aspect reflected in his countenance and body language.

His journey was interrupted by Jim Possible, who slapped him on the back, spun him around and began to talk to him. She let her gaze float from Ron and her brother to the rest of the room. Apart from the nagging yet futile desire to join the party, Kim was actually enjoying herself. Even "Hello, Hello, Hello"-the Oh Boyz song that made her cringe whenever Ron started to sing it in the car Senior year-filled her with a pleasant buzzing sensation that had her bouncing from foot to foot.

She saw Mariko go behind Felix's chair and reappear on its other side with Justy in tow and watched as she pulled him snake-wise across the room and disappear into the kitchen. Then she noticed that the music had changed. Instead of boy band pop, it was now hard rock. Kim didn't believe she had ever heard the song before and she couldn't identify its female singer. She caught a line about someone "being so cool" they "could have put out Vietnam." As she was absently trying to make sense of this, she looked down and noticed that Ron had finally reached the buffet. He was talking with Tara.

They were chatting amicably as Ron stacked a plate with nacos and slices of pizza. Kim could just make out what they were saying but didn't feel exactly right about eavesdropping so she tried to focus back on the music. She made out a little bit more of the lyrics.

_I'll always stand beside you_

_I'll bless the day I found you_

Then she heard Tara exclaim, "Bonnie."

She turned and saw Ron nodding as he made short work of the slice in his hand.

"She said she'd try to come," Tara was explaining, "but she's on call this weekend."

"I know, she told me she was a doctor. Pretty wild."

Tara nodded.

"And she told me doesn't even have a phone," Ron yelled as the music swelled.

"Yeah, it's really difficult to get in touch with her. I usually just call her office," Tara yelled back.

At some point Kim had discarded her qualms about eavesdropping because she had descended a few steps and was now leaning over the railing to catch every word of the conversation.

"And," Ron began but was interrupted when he put the naco into his mouth. He swallowed. "She's so _nice_ now."

Tara smiled. "Yeah, looking back, she really is different. But I always knew she could be. Even back in high school."

"Yeah," Ron said after finishing off his naco in two mammoth bites, "Must have been something big."

"What?"

"Something big must have happened to her," Ron explained a little louder as the next song began, "to make her change like that."

Tara stiffened. And then stared at Ron.

Ron put down his plate, and Kim saw him mouth "What?"

Tara leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He nodded as she spoke and set his half-full plate down on a corner of the table. Then he started up the stairs with Tara following.

Anticipating their keening, Kim sprang back up to the landing and then began backing down the hallway. They reached the landing and headed her way. She had decided against going to the attic, but now her only retreat was the open doorway to Ron's old bedroom. And, unfortunately, as she discovered a few seconds after entering the room, it was Ron and Tara's destination as well. He shut the door behind them, and Kim was trapped.

She leaped on the bed and was out of range of their keening. Yet, there was no way she could avoid eavesdropping now. And this fact gave her a sinking feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time. She tried to focus on the pattern of the bed spread.

"Okay, what's going on?" Ron asked.

Tara began to pace, but then stopped herself. "Well, I guess it makes sense."

"What?"

"You not knowing," she said. "Those last months of school were crazy, terrible. And you were so … we were worried about saying _anything_ to you, let alone about … well, you know."

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked.

Tara pressed her palms together and tapped her chin with the tips of her fingers. She dropped her hands with a sigh. "I don't know a good way to say this, Ron, so I'm just going to say it. Okay?"

"Okay."

Over the following seconds, Kim listened to the pulse quickening in her ears.

Tara folded and unfolded her arms and then finally spoke.

"Bonnie found Kim."

They both stood perfectly still for what seemed a long time just looking at the floor.

After a moment Kim realized that she was slumped on the bed. She idly traced the patterns on the bedspread with her fingers. She felt compelled to remember the last time she and Bonnie had met. To try and recall the last horrible things they undoubtedly must have said to each other. But she found that she couldn't.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," Tara said suddenly as she sat down on the bed's edge. "I didn't mean to bring all this up on your birthday."

Tara was still far enough away that Kim only had to draw up her legs to avoid the young woman's keening.

"It's okay, Tara," Ron said softly. "It's not really my birthday."

"Still, I didn't want to ruin your party."

"No, I'm-I'm okay."

Kim turned her face to the wall. It was so obvious he was lying.

"Oh man, poor Bonnie," Ron said finally. "So … what happened?"

"Hope should be the one telling you this," Tara replied, her voice beginning to crack. "I wasn't there."

Ron sat down next to Tara. His keening forced Kim to scoot against the wall and pull her knees to her chin.

Tara began to cry. Ron put his arm around her shoulder.

Unable to move from her position without incurring severe pain, Kim again tried to recall the last time she and Bonnie had spoken. However, the only thing that came to her was from months and months before she had died. It was that miserable locker room altercation that had ended with Bonnie's predication that Kim would die a virgin. But she so didn't want to think about that now. Vainly, she tried to focus on the party's music that was faintly thrumming through the bedroom's floor.

However, every time she had almost caught a song's melody, it would end.

* * *

To be continued ...

 **A/N** : Quoted lyrics by The Pogues


	28. Onen

I.

Hope surreptitiously guided the raging brunette into the park.

The sky was cloudless, and everything smelled like flowers.

After being kept inside for weeks by bad weather, Hope was determined to make the most of this beautiful day. She was even somewhat annoyed that the Senior Prom was that evening. As much as she was looking forward to the dance with Kevin, she would have much preferred having a romantic walk with him. At twilight, maybe near the Silver Gazebo.

_No, wait, mosquitoes. Maybe not such a good-_

"Bobby! Could you, for one second, stop clicking your braces and listen to me!" Bonnie screamed into her cell.

Hope flinched. Her friend's outbursts typically didn't bother her, but ever since she had broken up with that billionaire's son, Bonnie had become much more obnoxious than usual. It had always been something of a challenge to be her friend, but it was becoming more of a challenge as of late.

The ones that Hope truly pitied were the subsequent "boyfriends" Bonnie had chewed her way through during the intervening months. Each had believed that he would be the one to crack her hard exterior and win her heart. But, the only things they ended breaking were their own hearts.

Bobby Johnson, especially, must have thought he was in a fortunate position when Bonnie accepted his invitation to the prom.

_Poor Bobby._

Hope wondered how long Bonnie had allowed the boy to entertain the fantasy of being The One before unloading the harshness of her reality upon him.

_A day? A half hour even?_

Despite its intensity, Hope was thankful for the current tirade. If Bonnie hadn't been so focused on emasculating Bobby, she never would have allowed herself to be led into the park. Taking the scenic route just wasn't something Bonnie did. And especially not on the way to the manicurist's the day of the Senior Prom.

It was still early in the morning, and although there were a good number of people in the park, it couldn't have been called crowded. Hope smiled at a couple of people from school. These friendly exchanges were punctuated by sudden grimaces caused by the piercing exclamations issuing from her companion.

It wouldn't be long, Hope knew, before Bonnie realized where they were and turned the full force of her anger against _her_.

A gust of breeze came at them from the hill up ahead, scattering broken twigs and other debris across their path. Reflexively, Hope wrapped her arms about her bare shoulders. She looked up and noticed a cluster of small, yet darkening clouds in a far corner of the sky. It was then she realized that Bonnie was gone.

II.

Hope looked at the empty space beside her and then back down the path. Bonnie's cell was laying face-up on the payment. For the briefest of seconds, she recalled a joke Kim had made their sophomore year when Bonnie had been jockeying cheer captain. After Bonnie claimed that she put more than one hundred percent into the squad, Kim had quipped that giving too much effort might cause her to spontaneously combust.

_Leaving nothing but her phone._

Before she could even think to feel guilty about this mental jibe, Hope heard Bonnie screaming.

The sight of her friend tearing away from her momentarily stunned Hope. It took a few seconds for her to realize that Bonnie was yelling for her to call 911.

Fumbling in her purse for her cell, Hope glanced in the direction Bonnie was running. Under a tree some fifty yards away, a figure was laying face-up on the grass.

She finally found the phone and began to chase after Bonnie. By the time she got through to the emergency operator, she had gotten close enough to realize that the person lying motionless in Middleton Park was Kim Possible.

"They're on their way," Hope gasped as she leaned against the tree.

Bonnie was kneeling in the grass, holding one of Kim's outstretched arms in her hands. Hope didn't want to look at Kim, so she focused on Bonnie. The brunette looked calm. She had been running much faster than Hope, yet she wasn't even breathing hard. Her composure gave Hope a good measure of relief.

"Is she," Hope managed between breaths, "going to be okay?"

"No."

The word and its toneless delivery disoriented Hope at first. During the next few moments, Hope glanced unsurely toward the far edges of the park. Her eyes sought out the lake, the gazebo, and other familiar landmarks almost as if she were trying to recall where she was or where she might wish to go next. When her attention finally turned back to Bonnie, she realized that by holding Kim's arm, the brunette had been trying to find her pulse.

Although she didn't want to look, a strong compulsion guided her eyes to Kim's face. But by this time her vision was obscured by tears.

III.

"Dammit!" Bonnie spat.

"Huh?" Hope wiped her eyes but refused to look up.

"They won't stay closed." Bonnie continued.

Hope didn't ask, didn't want to know.

"There." Bonnie's voice was calm again. Flat. "There."

Hope closed her eyes. The breeze that had been so forceful minutes earlier seemed to have disappeared entirely.

The ambulance's siren made Hope jump. Blinking against the sunlight, she kept her eyes pointed away from where Kim was lying. Absently, she noticed a Styrofoam cup and a few scraps of paper around the tree's base. It was only later that she remembered that Kim had volunteered for litter duty in the park that day.

The ambulance, followed by a pair of Middleton police cruisers, was driving across the field to meet them. Hope thought it made sense they were driving across the grass; Kim was a world-saving hero after all.

_Wait, did I even tell them it was Kim?_

She found herself suddenly glancing in her friends' direction. Bonnie was kneeling by Kim's head. Contrary to Hope's fear, Kim's eyes were closed. The brunette brushed a stray hair from Kim's face just as the ambulance came to a stop.

During the interminable minutes of chaos that followed, Hope stayed close to the parked police cruisers and tried not to pay attention to anything for too long a time. A small crowd had gathered and not everyone was obeying the officers' command to disperse, at least not quickly.

_Where's Bonnie?_

Hope recalled hearing her talking to someone a few minutes earlier. As bad as she wanted to find Bonnie, she didn't want to venture through the crowd and look for her at the crime scene.

Hope realized that she was crying again. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Are you okay?" The older of the two police officers was at her elbow.

When she met his gaze, she couldn't think of anything to say.

"It might be a good idea to get these ladies checked out at the hospital, Hubble," the younger officer suggested.

"Yes!" Hope heard herself saying. "Yes, please, I want to go." Minutes before, she had only wanted to get as far away as possible, but the officer had provided the obvious destination. She wanted to see her father.

She didn't know how long they had been driving or even recall climbing into the car, but they were already on Maple when the officer asked from the front seat, "Ladies, do you need me to call your folks?"

"Her father works at the hospital," Bonnie said.

"I-I'll call him," Hope said. She began searching her bag for her cell before she realized it was in her hand.

"And what about you, Miss?" the officer asked Bonnie

"I don't know my parents' number." Bonnie said. After a beat, she continued, "It's on my phone; I lost it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Bonnie," Hope heard herself say. "I saw it on the path. I don't know why I didn't pick it up."

The following silence seemed oppressive. Hope felt awful, not for leaving Bonnie's phone, but for sounding so heartbroken that she had. It was just a phone. Not even worth mentioning.

Bonnie didn't look at Hope, just shrugged dismissively in response.

"I can look it up in the database," the officer said finally.

"Don't worry about it," Bonnie said, not looking up. Then she sighed. "Fine, ok, thank you."

Hope managed to ask her father to meet them at the ER's entrance.

Bonnie left her parents a very short voicemail with the officer's cell.

After ending her call, Hope looked closely at her friend. Bonnie's hair was in disarray, but for the most part she looked … normal. Her cheeks weren't flushed and her eyes didn't look red or puffy from crying. Her eyes were closed however. And they remained so for the rest of the ride.

IV.

Hope's father quickly swept her into his office where she tried telling him what happened. But she kept stumbling over the words. Once she switched to Tamil, it became easier. He embraced her before she could finish and held her tightly for a long time.

He was paged three times before he reluctantly released her. He promised to be back as soon as he could and closed the door quietly behind him.

She tried hard not to think, but Hope's mind was flooded with memories of Kim. She had no idea how much she had cried already but the back of her throat ached. As she wiped her eyes clear, she idly wished she had something cold to soothe it.

Immediately, this brought back the Friday night junior year when Kim had called an emergency squad meeting. Since she was grounded at the time, Hope's parents had had to come with her. She didn't recall Kim ever explaining what, if anything, the meeting was about, but she did remember Kim offering to buy everyone, even her parents, frozen yogurt. It had been terribly embarrassing to be grounded in front of the entire squad, but things had ended well. She and her parents actually did end up stopping for frozen yogurt once the meeting ended.

It hurt Hope's throat to laugh, but not much.

She tried to recall what Bonnie had said to break up the meeting. She was sure it was something extreme.

_Wait-Bonnie?_

Hope couldn't remember seeing Bonnie since her father met her at the ER's entrance. She was out the door and halfway to the elevator when she heard Bonnie calling after her.

"Where are you going?" The brunette was leaning against the wall next to Hope's father's office door.

"I-I was going to look for you."

Bonnie immediately dropped her gaze.

"Have you been here the whole time?"

Bonnie gestured to the bandage on her right forearm. "Officer Taylor had them run some tests on me. Everything's fine. Apparently."

"Why didn't you come in?"

"I didn't want to interrupt."

Hope was about to ask Bonnie why she hadn't come in after her father had left, but decided against it. Instead, she approached and gestured for Bonnie to enter the office.

Bonnie shrugged again, but didn't move.

Tentatively, Hope reached out for Bonnie's right hand and found herself looking directly into her friend's raised eyes.

There were no signs that she had been crying, but Bonnie's eyes looked wrong. Her pupils seemed smaller somehow, and their color was clouded, dulled.

Not knowing what else to do, Hope led Bonnie into the office and let her sit in her father's chair.

They didn't speak, just avoided each other's gaze for the next hour. When Hope's father finally returned, he gave Bonnie an awkward hug and explained that he needed to cover an absent doctor's shift and wouldn't be able to drive them home. He had, however, contacted Hope's mother who would be arriving soon.

"Doesn't mom have that thing in Upperton at noon?" Hope heard herself ask.

"It's fine," her father said.

V.

Everything seemed unreal as Hope hugged her mother in the parking lot an hour later. Although they had only been inside the hospital a few hours, it seemed much longer. She resented how brightly the sun was shining. And how everything still smelled like flowers.

"Would you like us to wait until your parents arrive?" Hope's mother asked Bonnie.

"Uh, I," Hope began, "I don't think - did you ever hear back from them, Bonnie?"

Bonnie shrugged.

"Bonnie doesn't have her phone," Hope explained. "She left a message for them, but I don't-"

"Bonnie, honey," Hope's mother said opening her purse, "you can call them on my phone."

"I don't know our number," Bonnie replied.

"I've got it saved on my phone, honey," Hope's mother said placing it in the girl's hand.

"They're still not home," Bonnie said a moment later, closing the phone.

"Well, you're welcome to stay with us until they do get home."

"Okay, thanks, Mrs. Rangan." Bonnie accepted an awkward hug from Hope's mother and allowed Hope to guide her into the sedan's back seat.

As they drove through the hospital's parking lot, Hope reflected on how strange it was to ride in a car where no one was talking on a cell phone and even the radio was off. She closed her eyes and tried to get lost in the red hue the sunlight created on the underside of her eyelids.

"Okay, what's going on here?" she heard her mother say from the front seat.

Hope squinted against the glare.

"C'mon, lady," Hope's mother continued. "I don't won't to run you over."

Looking out Bonnie's window, Hope made out someone in the middle of road. Her mother swerved her car exaggeratedly to the right as they drove past. Because of the angle of the sun, the person seemed to be only a walking shadow to Hope.

"What's her problem?" Hope's mom muttered.

"Her daughter's dead," Bonnie answered.

"What?" Hope's mother asked.

"Oh no!" Hope turned around and caught sight of the dwindling figure in the sedan's rear window. "Is that Kim's mom?"

But Bonnie couldn't answer. She had begun crying too hard to catch her breath, let alone make herself understood.

* * *

To be continued ...


	29. Twenty-six

Bondggity thanks to Quathis, Mr. Wizard, CajunBear73, JLBShecky, Charles Gray, Joe Stoppinghem, Katsumara, bigherb81, whitem, Reader101w, and Earl Allison for their great reviews.

Thanks, as always, to all for waiting and reading.

And, as always, thanks to flakeflippingsnowgypsy for her invaluable editing prowess.

* * *

I.

Kim concentrated hard on smiling. Very hard. So much so that her cheeks began to ache.

This had not been wholly unforeseen.

Subtle and not-so-subtle hints that this would be the path Mariko would choose had been sprinkled throughout her childhood. And now that she had made the decision to become a ninja these events were revealed to Kim as the harbingers they had always been.

Even something as unremarkable as a birthday present given by the one boy who made it absolutely clear that he didn't want to be at the party took on significance. Plastic nun-chucks had been the gift. Albert Reiger had been the boy, and Mariko's eighth birthday at JB Berymore's had been the party. Although she couldn't recall what the girl's reaction had been when she opened the gift, Kim could definitely remember the moment of anxious concern _she_ had felt.

Then there was that odd magazine the girl had collected for years that somehow combined the World Cup with kung fu.

And although the girl's desk and the Sloth's front passenger seat-both laden with library books in varying states of ferocious overdue-ness-suggested that reading was the girl's primary hobby, Mariko's focus on martial arts was nevertheless very strong. Even now, she and Ron would have pretty intense workout sessions regularly.

And then, of course, there had been the martial arts lesson Mariko had given Justy a few months after they returned from Japan. If anything should have sent up a red flag about her friend's destiny, it was that day.

For the first minutes, Kim had assisted by giving Mariko direction and little pointers to help Justy feel confident. However, it wasn't long before the lesson became Mariko's lesson, and all Kim had to do was sit back and watch. And try not to laugh when things didn't go according to plan.

Monique's boy seemed to be channeling Mariko's father because he lost his pants at one point. However, what stayed with Kim about the lesson was an expression that flashed across Mariko's face once or twice. Containing equal parts serenity and determination, the look at first seemed out of place on the little girl. Nevertheless, Kim soon recognized to whom it belonged.

Although they were Ron's eyes and his freckles, the expression was Yori's.

Still.

 _This doesn't mean she'll automatically become an assassin, too. Ninjas are not_ exclusively _murderers. Many are simply spies that use their skills for good causes. And what's wrong with that? Wasn't I essentially a spy in high school? Essentially?_

It was this same line of reasoning that convinced Kim, on several occasions over several years, that Mariko becoming a ninja could actually be a _good_ thing.

_Essentially._

Down the years Kim had frequently seen Yori reflected in her daughter. This was especially true at age seven when Mariko joined the community soccer league. Filled with resolve, the little girl would run up and down the field with her features fixed in her mother's expression for minutes on end and especially in the final moments of close games.

And as she grew older, the resemblance was revealed in Mariko's body language as well. And not just when she charged after the ball. It was evident in the way she stood anticipating a free kick or even in the way she jogged to the sidelines after a half. It was quite eerie how quickly the girl's normal gangly, laidback posture metamorphisized into the composed, graceful physicality of her mother even when all she had done was climb out of her father's pick-up and walk toward the soccer field. What leavened the sense of the uncanny for Kim was that she could never imagine Yori wearing an ostentatiously-colored uniform or playing a team sport.

It was during these moments that Kim once or twice found herself wondering what sort of person her murderer might have become had she been raised differently. Who might she have been if she had not been tutored by that poisonous old man on the mountain?

However, such thoughts were quickly dismissed once Kim recalled that Rina had been raised in that same environment and had chosen a much different path.

"So," Kim said clapping her hands with a show of enthusiasm, "Were you thinking of staying in Middleton?" She sincerely hoped that Mariko kept her base of activities local.

"Maybe," Mariko nodded. "But I want to leave my options open. Who knows? I might try someplace more exotic." She winked and put the car into to drive.

As they drove through town in silence, Kim's stomach anxiously churned. Although she sincerely doubted that her friend would want to take up the "destiny" of her childhood and return to Yamanouchi, Kim felt she had to emotionally prepare for such a decision. More than that, she had to meet it head-on before she went crazy.

_Deep breath, take the plunge._

"Asia?" Kim asked tentatively.

"Huh?" Mariko asked over her shoulder.

"Were you thinking about going to Asia? You know, to be a-for your … career?"

_Oh, this tanks! I can't even say "ninja."_

"Whoa-not _that_ exotic. I was thinking more like Upperton-exotic."

"Upperton?" Although this answer initially relieved Kim, it puzzled her too. Why wouldn't Mariko just stay in Middleton if she only planned to go a half hour's distance? Then Kim recalled that Fukushima had mentioned starting a dojo in Upperton.

_Is she thinking of working with Fukushima?_

This possibility greatly eased Kim's fears. If Mariko was considering employment at a strip-mall dojo that catered to suburbanites, her ninja aspirations were definitely of a different stripe than even the reformed post-Sensei Yamanouchi type. Yet this confused Kim too.

_Why would Mariko want Fukushima for a mentor? Why wouldn't Ron do it? Maybe because he doesn't have a dojo?_

Kim was so focused and confused by these thoughts that she only heard the tail-end of what Mariko was saying.

"-a spanking program. I could learn a lot there," Mariko continued as they stopped at the traffic signal outside Kim's old neighborhood.

"I see," Kim said still unsure.

 _I guess she_ is _going to be Fukushima's apprentice then._

"Until, that is," Mariko turned back to Kim with a wicked smile, "I take 'em over."

_WHAT?_

"Mariko Stoppable!" Kim screamed. "Pull this car to the side of the road and roll down this partition. NOW!"

The girl quickly did as she was told. After parking the car, she fumbled with the switch to lower the separator.

Kim was so upset that she didn't know what to say at first. Anger mixed with utter shock, she held tightly to the back of the passenger seat to steady herself.

_Stay calm. Don't get emotional. Stay calm._

She looked the girl straight in the eye and said as calmly and firmly as she could, "You can not take over someone else's dojo, Mariko."

The girl's eyes looked confused, but then she quickly nodded. "Okay, yeah."

"Even if you are a ninja, you can't just do things like that. It's still wrong."

"Yeah," Mariko agreed. Once she caught the look in Kim's eyes, she corrected, "I mean, yes."

Kim looked at the girl's face for what seemed a long time. And then her resolve buckled; she lost it. "Oh Mariko, why wouldn't you just start your _own_ dojo?" Kim choked.

"I don't know!" Mariko cried. She reached over and pulled Kim in a tight embrace.

Although the girl's words were no admission of wrongdoing, her sadness was genuine and palpable. Kim hugged her back tightly.

"I wish I knew," Mariko said earnestly as they broke their embrace.

"Wish you knew what?" Kim asked, rubbing her left eye clear.

"Why someone wouldn't just start their own dojo."

Kim shook her head. "Huh?"

"I mean, you're right, it is _so_ wrong. Daddy told me that some ninjas just think they can do whatever they want." She sighed. "Is it somebody we know?"

" _Somebody we know"?_

"Hirotaka?" Mariko said with some difficulty.

A shiver went down Kim's back at the mention of the girl's uncle's name. The unexpectedness of this sensation disoriented her. "Wha-? No, Fukushima."

"What? Fukushima did _that_?"

"No, no, of course not, Mariko. It's _his_ dojo, right?"

"Someone took over Fukushima's dojo?" Mariko cried.

Kim helped up both hands. "Okay, stop!" She took a couple of breaths and then gave Mariko a hard look. "What exactly are we talking about?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm getting the distinct feeling that we're talking about different things."

"Well, that would be pretty badical," Mariko said, "because I so don't like what I've been taking about."

After a moment Kim asked, "You are not talking about overthrowing Fukushima's dojo yourself, right?"

The girl's eyes widened in shock. "No! Of course not!"

Kim gave a relieved sigh. "So you're just planing someday to set up your _own_ dojo in Upperton."

"Huh? What makes you think I'd do that?"

"Because you _told me_ you were going to, Mariko."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did, Mariko," Kim replied sternly. "You said you were looking for some place 'Upperton-exotic,' remember?"

"No, no. I mean why do you think I want to set up a dojo _anywhere_?"

"Well, because-" she hesitated and realized that Mariko had _not_ actually said she was going to start up her own ninja school or join someone else's for that matter. Finally, Kim said, rather lamely, "Because … that's what ninjas … do?"

"Maybe. But _I'm_ not a ninja."

"Wait a minute," Kim said. "I thought you said you wanted the same career as your mother?"

"I do."

"But, Mariko," Kim was massaging both temples with her index fingers, "isn't being a ninja what your mother … did?"

The girl's eyes cleared. "Ohhhh, now I get it." She shook her head and smiled. "You thought I was going to be a ninja because she was one."

"Well, duh!" Kim cried.

"Mom wasn't just a ninja, Rufina. She was a teacher at Yamanouchi, too. And _that's_ what I want to be."

The riot of relief in Kim's chest actually hurt. She blinked her eyes clear. "You want to be a teacher?"

Mariko nodded. "Hmm," she said regarding her still-frazzled friend. "Maybe I should have told you I wanted to be like Mr. Barkin."

"And Upperton?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, I was thinking about going to Double U because they have an excellent Foreign Language department."

"And _that_ was the program you were going to take over?" The final tumblers fell into place.

"That was a little big-heady of me to say, but yeah. Wow. You actually thought I wanted to be a ninja. I can't imagine a worse job. Dad _hated_ it when he was one."

Kim collapsed into the backseat. Her emotions still jumbled.

"Remember when that Reiger kid gave me those stupid nun-chucks for my birthday? I never even opened the box, just stuck it under my bed. They're probably still there under a half-foot of dust."

Kim groaned.

"Can we go now?" Mariko asked. "Justy's probably already there."

Kim nodded absently, and Mariko raised the partition and then started the Sloth.

As they pulled back onto the road, the girl cut a glance in the rearview mirror at Kim's deflated form. "You are so weird, Rufina."

II.

"Well I don't see Mon's car," Kim said as the Sloth pulled into the Possibles' drive. "I guess we beat them."

"Nah, Justy's probably already here. I'm sure she just dropped him off."

"Hmm."

Mariko flashed Kim a look. "You don't think she'd actually want to stick around and watch, do you? That's nutty."

Kim shrugged.

Mariko pressed the button to lower the partition, but after only a few inches, it stopped descending.

"Oh no," Kim groaned. "I thought Wade was going to fix this."

Mariko, who was monkeying with the button to no discernable affect, shook her head. "I forgot to mention it to him."

"Great."

Mariko tried pushing down on the partition, but it didn't budge.

When it had been jammed in the past, there had sometimes been enough space for Kim to squeeze out of the back. Not this time. Not even close.

Resisting an urge to push on the plexiglass herself, Kim suggested turning the car off and then back on.

No result.

"Well, you can always tell me how it went later," Kim said finally.

"Hold on," Mariko said, "let me try something." She stared fixedly at the few inches of empty space between the partition and the car's roof. She then closed her eyes tightly. When she reopened them, her cocoa pupils were dark cerulean. Almost instantly, a tiny sphere, outlined with the same blue glow, appeared floating above the partition.

With the same patience, singularity of mind, and deftness of action that she displayed whenever she was in command of a toy bubble wand, Mariko gently took in a few breaths of air and then released it from her slightly puffed cheeks. As she did so, the sphere expanded. Its edges touched the car's ceiling and then the top of the partition. The sphere continued to increase in size, and the partition began to lower beneath its pressure.

Kim heard an unhealthy groan, presumably from the gears for the retractable boundary. "That didn't sound too good."

Fortunately, at that point, the partition had lowered to the extent that she could crawl over with ease.

Mariko blinked her eyes, and they returned to their normal hue. She gave Kim an embarrassed, self-conscious smile and then reached out and jabbed at the sphere with her finger. It vanished like a soap bubble.

"So," Kim asked with an arched eyebrow, "how long have been waiting to show _that_ off?"

"About a week," Mariko admitted. "I'll give you the skinny later. Come on, your mom's probably already told Justy what's in store. He's probably freaking."

III.

But Justy wasn't freaking. In fact, he hadn't arrived yet.

"That's strange. He's usually early to everything." Mariko frowned.

"Maybe he knows this is an ambush," Kim ventured.

"No, no, the only person I told was your mom. And MrsDrP does not spill."

"What is that, Mariko?" Ann Possible asked as she walked into the Possible kitchen. "Tamil?"

"Yes, it is, MrsDrP," Mariko replied in English as she took out her v-phone and tried to contact Justy.

"Dr. Rangan in pediatric neurosurgery sometimes slips into his native language during department meetings, and I thought I recognized a word or two."

Kim smiled at the mention of Hope's father. She found it ironic that Mariko had just been speaking a foreign language that she actually understood.

_Well, okay, maybe just a phrase or two I picked up from Hope._

"Shoot," Mariko said as she hung up the phone.

"No Justy?" Kim's mother asked.

"No," the girl sighed. "No answer. His phone must be turned off."

Kim felt a slight flutter of anxiety in her stomach.

"You don't think he's nervous, do you?" Ann asked.

"No," Mariko smiled. "He doesn't even know why I asked him here. You're the only one I've told."

"Well, I'll finish getting things set up."

"Do you need any help, MrsDrP?"

"No, I've already cleared a space," Ann replied as she turned to the living room. "I just need to program the song list on the stereo."

Mariko's phone began to shimmy on the counter. Its lights radiated in a pattern that approximated the outline of a cartoonish insect.

"There he is," Mariko said. "He better have a good story," she groused and then shot a look to Kim. "Listen to _me_ , it hasn't been twenty-four hours and I'm already the nagging girlfriend," she said quickly as she picked up the phone.

It wasn't Justy.

"Oh, hey, RP," Mariko sighed, "what's up?"

"What's the matter?" the young woman's concerned face asked. Her voice grew stern. "Did Justin duck out on the dance lesson?"

"Hey," Kim said, playfully elbowing her friend, "I thought you said that you only told Mom."

"I did," Mariko replied puzzled.

"Huh?" the woman asked from the screen.

"No, no, RP," Mariko said quickly. "He's just running a little late, and I'm getting a little angsty. I mean, we only have this afternoon and maybe Thursday to do this."

"I learned to waltz in less than two hours, Mariko. It will _not_ be a problem."

"But you're a genius and way more graceful than I am."

"Don't even start. Besides, all that matters is the right teacher, and you have the same one I did."

"Speaking of which," Mariko said as she spotted Ann returning from the living room, "would you like to speak with her?"

"Of course!"

Mariko handed her phone to Ann. "You're up, MrsDrP."

"Rina!" Ann exclaimed.

"Hi, Mom, how's everything at home?"

"Same old, same old. Your father's still working on that Solar-powered Hyperdrive. Tim dropped his laundry off last night, but took Jim's this morning by mistake."

"They've been living on their own for how many years now?" Rina asked in disgust. "You need to stop doing it for them, Mom. I can still remember when they suckered me into folding their shirts when I was thirteen. And I am _still_ waiting for them make good on that reward they promised."

"I'll mention it when I see them, Honey," Ann replied with a smile. "Things still going well?"

"Couldn't be better."

Kim listened attentively as her little sister and mother discussed the former's work on her law degree.

One of the chief pleasures of Kim's second life had been seeing her parents adopt Rina and then witnessing the subsequent, if gradual, evolution of the newly-configured Possible family. It had its own idiosyncrasies and didn't feel exactly like the family she had belonged to, but it was just as tightly-woven. Just as warm.

The good Rina had done for Kim's parents was unmistakable. Despite the passage of seven additional years, they both seemed younger and healthier than when Kim had first encountered them after her death. Shortly after the adoption, James took up playing golf and tennis again. Initially, this was done to teach Rina how to play. After the lessons were over, however, he found himself reticent to revert to the couch potato he had been for almost a decade. And although she had stopped dying her hair and let it turn silver, Ann was vibrant-taking back full control of both her home and her department at the hospital. What's more, apart from the first few nights after Rina moved into the loft, Kim's mom had stopped sitting at the base of its ladder and began sleeping through the night.

Although not as dramatic, the effect of Rina's adoption upon the Tweebs was also definitive. As cavalier as the two had acted during the visit from Yamanouchi, Kim had detected a sad emptiness to their antics. Having a little sister filled a void in their lives: the void of having someone to torment. Although they stayed on their best behavior for the first month after the adoption, they eventually couldn't resist teasing the newest Possible. Although the infighting never got as intense as it had between herself and her brothers, Kim nevertheless felt a protective instinct rise within her whenever they ganged up on Rina.

The doorbell rang.

"Thank goodness," Mariko announced as she sprang from her seat. "He better have a good excuse-he's twenty minutes late." She directed a playful wink to Kim as she left the kitchen.

Kim returned her attention back to her mother and sister. Listening to Rina, she couldn't help but smile at how much the girl's personality had changed over the years. Even after moving into the Possible home, she had initially remained the reserved, somewhat bookish girl Kim had first encountered on the mountain.

Kim recalled checking up on Rina through her bedroom's skylight the second or third night after she had moved in. The room seemed to overwhelm the girl, but maybe it looked so big because of the bare walls after Kim's posters, Cuddlebuddies, and trophies had been removed. Rina seemed almost bewildered by the desk, the bureau, and the bed. Not in the sense that she didn't understand the furniture's purpose; rather, she seemed confused by the fact that the desk and the bed were actually hers now. She treated everything with the trepidation and reverence one had for a guest room in someone else's home.

Over the next several weeks, however, Kim would look through the skylight and detect little signs that Rina was taking possession of the room (a poster, a daily desk calendar). However, Kim was also pleased when Rina asked her mother to take the Cuddlebuddies out of storage. She felt honored when the young girl began sleeping with her Octorilla; not in the least because Kim thought it likely that the plush was the very first toy Rina had ever had.

Kim's most cherished memory connected with her little sister, however, was the night she glanced into the room and discovered that Rina was having a sleepover with some friends from school. The loft was in chaos. Two girls were playing video games on Kim's ancient television set, a girl with long blond hair was online at her tweeb-revamped computer, and another pair of girls was jumping with abandon on the bed. What at one time had been a sterile shrine to Kim's first life had been transformed into just a bedroom. Of course, the real boost came when Kim realized that one of the girls straining the bed's supports was Rina herself.

"Hicka-bicka-boo!" Jim said as he strode into the kitchen, a glum Mariko behind him.

"Oosha," Tim cried at her heels.

"Speak of the devil," Ann said to Rina.

"Let me speak to them," Rina replied firmly.

Ann handed Mariko's phone to Jim.

"Well, if it isn't the world-famous non-Dr. Possible," Jim said cheerily.

It really miffed Kim when her brothers underlined the fact that their little sister remained the only member of the family without a doctorate or a medical degree. After all, she had breezed through college in just three years and earning her J.D. was a foregone conclusion.

Fortunately, the teasing never seemed to get to Rina, and there were more important concerns today. "Maybe you should call Justy at home," Kim suggested as Mariko plunked herself back down at the table.

"Where's my Super-Star Edition Pandaroo, Jim?" Rina asked her big brother. Although she played with Kim's Cuddlebuddies during middle-school, Rina had become exclusively a collector by the time she entered high school. This prized item had been the bribe the boys had used to get her to fold their laundry back in the past.

"Watch your self, Bro," Tim warned. "The girl's a ninja."

"And a lawyer," Jim conceded.

"A ninja-lawyer," they said in unison.

"Not yet, but soon enough," Rina replied ominously.

"You may want to speak to Tim about the plush," Jim advised his sister as he tossed the phone quickly to his brother.

"Thanks a lot!" Tim replied as he caught the device.

"What's the matter, Mariko?" Jim asked. "Did the boyfriend chicken out of the dancing lesson? Do you need me to beat him up?"

"How many people did you _not_ tell, Mariko?" Kim said with forced levity.

Mariko shook her head, but it was clear that she was concerned with something more important than the mystery of how so many people knew about their dancing lesson.

"Justy's never been this late for anything," Mariko replied with obvious concern. She gave a quick glance to Jim after looking to Kim.

"Do you want me to get Wade on the horn?" Jim said in all seriousness.

"No, no, I'll try calling him at home first."

A rap on the kitchen door was quickly followed by the welcomed sight of Justy's happy if slightly confused expression in its window.

IV.

"Dancing?" Justy frowned. "I hadn't thought about that. What are we going to do?"

"We'll just have to learn to dance, I guess," Mariko shrugged.

"Is there enough time? I know you have to work tomorrow night."

"Don't worry. MrsDrP will take care of everything. Right, RP?"

"Not a thing to worry about, Justy," Rina nodded from the v-phone. "Mom taught me how to waltz _the afternoon_ of Junior prom. It will be no big."

"I'm not sure about that, Little Sis," Tim called from the fridge, "I don't recall _my_ dancing lesson going so smoothly."

"I believe that was more of a pupil problem, than a teacher problem," Rina quipped with a barely perceptible snark in her voice.

"Hey!" Jim snapped as he put down his uneaten sandwich. "Tim was the one with two-left feet, not me." He then turned his attention to his mother. "You told her _that_ story, too?"

"Of course I did," Ann replied. "You boys were only ones I failed to teach. And I believe in giving full disclosure to all my prospective pupils." She shook her head at the memory. "You boys were so coordinated in everything else you did together; I thought waltzing would be a breeze."

To avoid the keening radiating off her family members as they moved about the room, Kim had scooted to the center of the booth against the window. Still, she found herself placing a hand to one of her ears from time to time whenever her mother or one of her brothers got too close. However, she was able to follow the anecdote about her brothers' dancing lesson.

It must have taken place a few years after she'd died. If she had still been still alive, her mother would have roped her into being the Tweebs' proxy. Without a doubt, she would have loathed every minute and complained the entire time, but still. Sharing another experience with them would have been so worth all the inherent tedium and aggravation it might have entailed. Actually, it was their annoying qualities that Kim missed most of all.

She watched as everyone followed her mom into the living room and then waited a moment to allow everyone to get settled, so she could find a keening-free space in the other room. As she left the kitchen, Kim remembered hearing Mariko ask Justy why he hadn't answered his phone. But she hadn't caught his reply.

"Does everyone need to be starring at us like this?" Justy asked.

He and Mariko were standing in the center of a large space MrsDrP had cleared right in front of the large flat-screen. The couch pieces had been so arranged that they fanned out about the pair like a row of seats in an auditorium. Jim and Tim were sitting in the anchor seats at either end.

"I don't know what you're thinking, kid," Jim said.

"But we're here to catch the game," Tim said, raising the remote.

"Give me that." Ann snatched the remote from him. "Here, hold your sister," she ordered, handing him Mariko's phone. "Make sure she can see them."

"I guess that's a 'yes'," Mariko smiled as she reached out and gave Justy's hand a squeeze.

"It's important to have an audience when you learn to dance," Ann explained. "Because when you dance, you need to be able to ignore everyone in the room but your partner."

"So _that's_ why everyone knows about this?" Mariko asked Ann in surprise.

"Yep, because _Mom_ told them," Kim said from her spot at the edge of the dining table. "When I learned in eighth grade, she corralled the Tweebs' entire scout troop to watch us trip over our feet."

_Ron's feet._

_Shoot._

"Well, guess it could be worse," Mariko explained to Justy. "There are only _three_ of them after all," she squeezed both his palms hard and gave him a wink.

The doorbell rang.

"Could you get that, Jim?"

With a brief roll of his eyes, Jim got up, walked to the door, and let in Mariko's bubbe, Hope's father, and the high school principal.

"Mr. Barkin?" Kim cried. "Mom, that is _so_ not cool!"

"Barbara Jo, Dr. Rangan," Ann smiled as she turned around. "Wait a minute, Mr. Barkin?"

"Dr. Possible, boys, Renton, Stoppable," Mr. Barkin greeted everyone tersely as he surveyed the living room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Barkin," Rina said from Mariko's phone.

The burly septuagenarian pushed the glasses back from the bridge of his nose and peered in the direction of her voice. Tim leaned forward and extended the device toward him. "Ah, Counselor," he said, "good day."

"How can I help you, Mr. Barkin?" Ann asked.

"Actually, I need to speak with Stoppable for a moment. I'm not disturbing anything, am I?"

"No, I believe we can wait a brief moment," Ann replied.

Although he had never been on the wrong side of Barkin's Rules (or their Amendments), Justy clearly felt uncomfortable within the pedagogue's overtly authoritarian presence. Accordingly, he stepped back as the principal strode toward the center of the living room. The firm grip of his girlfriend's hand kept him from retreating too far.

This did not escape Mr. Barkin's notice, and he shot the teens' interwoven hands a disapproving look that he quickly directed at Mariko's blithe expression.

"It's not PDA if we're not in public, Mr. Barkin," she said before he could speak.

"She shoots, she scores," Kim whispered approvingly.

"True enough, Stoppable," he admitted. He added quickly, "Just remember to keep it in check on my beat."

"Is that what you wanted to say to me?"

"No, no. I was in the area and noticed your car in the drive." He took a folded paper from his back pocket. "As you may be aware, your father volunteered to cater the dance this Friday. Subsequently, there is some brief but vitally important paperwork I need him to fill out. If you could give this to him, you'll save me a long trip downtown."

"Sure," Mariko said placing the list in the front pocket of her jeans, "but, uh, isn't the restaurant just two miles away?"

"Just do it, Stoppable," he replied gruffly. "As you were, people."

"You're more than welcome to stay, Mr. Barkin," Ann said as he turned toward the door.

Kim groaned.

"Thank you, but I have no wish to intrude upon … whatever it is you're doing."

"Not at all, you'd actually be helping us." And Ann proceeded to explain how he could assist.

Justy appeared noticeably more anxious as he watched Mr. Barkin settle on the Possibles' couch.

Ann spent only a few minutes walking the pair through the basic steps of three-quarter time and then told them she was going to let them fly solo.

"It'll be okay, Justy," Mariko smiled as her boyfriend began to absently wring her hands in his.

"Yeah, I guess," he laughed nervously. The music began. "Is this, uh, would you consider this lesson our first date?"

"I guess you could call it that," Mariko replied uneasily as she noticed that Mr. Barkin had just produced a pencil and pad to record his critical observations of their first dance.

Justy smiled nervously, put his arm about his best-friend-now-girlfriend's waist, swallowed hard, raised her right hand in his, and started to lead her with a few tentative steps. And his right foot slipped completely out of his sneaker.

At that moment, Monique entered from the kitchen. "Boy," she addressed Justy sharply, "I sure hope you weren't thinking of starting without your mother being present!"

"We've only just started, Monique," Ann explained. "I was beginning to worry you weren't going to make it."

"Thank goodness you're here, Mon!" Kim said with obvious relief.

"Uh-uh, there's no way I'm missing this." She tossed her purse across the room where it nearly hit Tim and landed roughly next to Mr. Barkin on the couch. "Okay, Baby-J, show me what you got," she said firmly, folding her arms across her chest.

Justy, far less tense than he had been a minute before, smiled at his mother's stern figure and then bent down to retie his shoe.

"While I'm still approaching middle-age, please," Monique chided.

A common assumption people made when they would first meet Justy's mother was that she was at least partially responsible for his extreme reticence. Kim herself, had made the same conclusion a few weeks after Ron and Mariko's return from Japan. Mon was so extroverted, expressive, and frank that it made a certain amount of sense that her little boy, if already somewhat shy, might further withdraw within himself to escape the brilliant glare of her personality.

However, careful observation of mother and son proved that quite the opposite was true. Although he never transformed into "the life of the party," Justy was discernibly more at ease and more outgoing when his mother was present. He managed to look others in the eye when he spoke and his voice was noticeably less quiet, more firm. And there were changes in Monique's behavior as well. Mon had never been the reserved type; however, she always seemed to have her personality radiating at a higher wattage whenever Justy had company over.

The fact was that whenever Monique entered a room, she effectively became the center of attention. Subsequently, whatever social pressures Justy felt, whether real or imagined, became that much less. And that much more bearable.

The day Kim intuited what was really going on between Monique and Justy had been one of the roughest days of her second life. She had wanted to hug Monique so badly, to tell her what an excellent mother she was, and how proud she was of her. However, she stayed frozen in her corner. The cold reality that she was forever separated from her BGF and everyone else she had loved in her first life stung as badly that day as it ever had. Fortunately, the commotion around the birthday table had been dense enough to swallow Kim's muffled sobs and keep them from reaching Mariko's ears.

_What is with me today? Why all the sad memories?_

Kim focused back on the kids' first solo dance. Although Justy was still having some difficulty with his right shoe, there was definitely a sense of flow to his movement. Mariko, on the other hand, kept disturbing the flow by forgetting her fourth step and then when she tried to correct the misstep she began to lead.

And the girl wasn't leading with her arm but with her hip.

V.

"So what's up?" Mariko asked. "My dancing wasn't _that_ awful."

"Well, now that you mention it …" A playful elbow in her side interrupted Kim. "No, no, it was fine. You were very graceful." She paused. "At the end of the lesson."

"At the _very_ end, you mean," Mariko snorted. "Good thing Justy is so patient. It takes a great deal of effort to restrain the Stoppable Bondiggity Dance gene. I'm so glad the rest of the dancing will be freestyle."

They were sitting on the roof of the Sloth watching the orange and purple glow of the sunset ebb from the surface of Middleton Lake. Monique had hustled Justin off to Tuxedo Hutt in the mall, and Mariko hadn't been in any hurry to go home and fix dinner.

"So did your new trick inspire you to have Wade adjust the horn?" Kim asked.

"Huh?"

"The bubble, Mariko." Kim was intent to learn how the latest Mystical Monkey Power had come about.

"Oh, that. No. That just happened after practice last week; it was on one of your off days."

"Go on."

"Well, I was walking off the field and noticed a paper cup someone had tossed on the ground. Well, you know how I can't walk by litter without picking it up."

"Yeah," Kim said, "I know the feeling." A mild unease passed over her, but she tried to ignore it.

"But I was carrying the gear bag and so didn't want to have to bend down because the strap cuts into my shoulder. I could have put it down, but it ferociously tanks to have to pick it back up. Man, I hate it when I get stuck with that gig …"

"Mariko."

"So I just stood there for a minute trying to figure out what to do and then 'ding!'"

"'Ding?'"

"Yeah, 'ding' and there was a blue bubble around it."

"Just like that?"

"Yep. At first I didn't know I had done it. I tried stepping on the bubble, kicking it, trying to pop it. Nothing. Would not budge. I mean I was putting some serious pressure on it-in my cleats no less. But when I reached down to touch it with my finger, it just popped."

"How did you know you were doing it?"

"When I did it again."

"I see."

"Yeah, I just stared really hard at the orange again, and 'ding.' I did it a couple of more times before I realized I could make it appear just in midair and then I realized I could make it move in any direction I turned my head."

"Huh. So, I guess, you finally used the bubble to levitate the cup into the trash can."

Mariko didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Actually, that didn't occur to me. I just picked it up and chucked it in the trash."

Kim sighed. "What did your dad say when you told him?" Despite the girl's nonchalance, Kim suspected that the Mystical Monkey Master might have a keen interest in the new power.

"He said was it pretty cool," Mariko said.

"I see." Kim shook her head in mild exasperation.

After a prolonged silence, Mariko asked, "Kim?"

"Yes?" Kim knew that her friend only addressed her by her true name if it was something really important.

"Does tonight count as my first date with Justy?"

"Of course not!" Kim laughed and reached over and swatted the top of her friend's head. "On top of everything else, _Mr. Barkin_ was there! 'Date' and 'Mr. Barkin' do not go together. Dur hur."

"That's a relief." Mariko slid from the roof to the hood of the car and then lay her back against the windshield. "Still, I don't think it would be that bad if tonight was our first date. Actually, even romantic in a weird way. Dontcha think?"

_Learning to waltz in front of your extended family circle and the school principal? Well, some people might call that romantic. Indeed. Some would._

"Never be normal," Kim nodded.

"What's wrong, Kim?" Mariko asked. "You were frowning earlier and I know it wasn't because Justy kept running into my hip."

"It's nothing. Really."

"Kim."

Kim inched down the windshield so she was even with the teenager. "I was thinking about my own dancing lesson."

"The one with Dad?"

"Yes. The one with your father."

The surface of the lake was now completely opaque. The only remnant of the sunset was an orange edge just above the tree line on the lake's far shore.

"I can see how that would be rough to remember," Mariko said finally.

"Yeah, but it's rougher because _he_ wasn't the person I was learning for."

"Huh?"

"Walter Nelson took me to the 'March Mildness' dance."

Mariko sat up and turned around. "The braces guy?" A pause. "Oh yeah, this was back in middle school, right?"

"Uh-huh." Kim crossed her arms. "And, you know, Walter and I were the only ones who _even tried_ to dance that night. No one dances at middle school dances. They just stand along the wall and talk with their friends."

"That's because they don't know how to dance." Mariko added helpfully.

"Well, _Walter_ sure didn't. He had promised me he was going to learn, but he didn't. He was fumbling about and I was the one who felt like an idiot."

"Why didn't he learn from your mom?"

"I asked him to, but he said he couldn't make it. That he had 'stuff' to do. Actually, I think he never really felt comfortable around my family."

"I'd take that as a big red flag."

"Yeah, I should have. But I really liked him at the time."

"Well, did you dance with Dad when you realized Walter had flaked on you?"

"I would have, but he wasn't there. That's what makes it so much worse. Ron and I always went to dances and other school functions together, you know, as friends. But whenever I went with somebody else, he always stayed home."

"That tanks."

"Except, of course, the time he got locked in the janitor's closet." Kim dropped her face into her hands.

"What?"

"Another really bad story," Kim said raising her head. "I'll tell you about it someday, but I'd rather feel terrible about just _this one_ at the moment."

"Sure. But this one doesn't sound all that bad. You can't help it if he decided to stay home."

"No, but that's not what makes this story awful. I was pretty mean to him during the lesson."

"Oh. Why?"

"Well, I was so intent on learning it right away, on getting every step right, on being the best and he …"

"Danced like I did?"

"No," Kim laughed, "at the start we both danced like you did. That wasn't it. At first he was just being his normal laid-back self, so I got angry because I thought he wasn't taking it seriously enough. And then when he saw I was angry, he picked up his game, and that _really_ made me angry."

"Why?"

Kim hoped Mariko couldn't see her wincing expression in the dark. Regardless, the truth had to be admitted. "Because he was dancing better than I was."

After a moment of pained silence, her friend offered generously, "The Blue Fox rides again?"

"Exactly." Kim nodded. "He realized what was going on and let me catch up. And then at the very end of the lesson when we were both finally in sync, he suddenly placed his head on my shoulder."

"Aww, that's so cute."

"Yes, it was, but I didn't see it that way. I yelled at him to wake up. I was pretty harsh actually." Kim sighed and looked toward the now invisible lake. "He tried to explain that my 'graceful moves' were lulling him into a trance, but I wasn't having any of it."

Mariko's voice broke the darkness a minute or so later. "You know you're letting it bother you much more than it bothered him, right?"

"Maybe."

"He's probably forgotten all about it."

"You're right. What time is it?"

Markio glanced at her v-phone. "Just after seven."

"Justy's probably finished at the Tux shop by now. Give him a call maybe there's still time for you two to have a real first date."

"Cool-maybe you're right." Kim saw the girl's phone screen light up as she dialed. "Hello, Mrs. R, can I speak to Justy?"

Of course, the shop had been packed and Justy was just now trying on his suit. However, Monique thought that they would be done within a half hour.

"With luck, we can meet at the food court before the mall closes," Mariko said as she closed the driver's side door.

"A slice of bacon pizza and a cinnamon pretzel," Kim grinned from the back seat, "sounds like a pretty decent first date to me." Then she asked, "Why did you call Mon? Why didn't you just call Justy's phone?"

"He lost it. That's why I couldn't reach him earlier."

"He lost it? That doesn't sound like him."

"Right? He never loses _anything_. But he said when he looked in his backpack this afternoon, it was gone."

As the car left the gravel surface of the parking lot for the asphalt of Sheridan Parkway, Mariko explained that some of her friends and their dates were renting limos for Friday night.

"It's the _Spirit Dance_ for goodness sake!" Kim exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's kinda romantic, but it's not like it's the prom or anything," Mariko agreed.

Kim thought for a moment and then asked. "Do we have time to swing past the park?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"Well, if you're looking for something romantic but affordable, I know the perfect spot," she smiled.

Kim maintained a cheery exterior all the way to the park; yet she couldn't shake the unease fluttering in her stomach.

It had begun as soft as a rustle of leaves the moment Mariko mentioned Justy's phone. During the ride it had grown insidiously and become a half-heard whisper just as the car had rolled to a stop near the Silver Gazebo.

And as Kim waited, trapped in the backseat as Mariko struggled once again with the partition, the dread that had been tracking her all day became too loud and too clear to be ignored any longer.

 _Something's coming_. _You don't know what it is, so you can't do anything about it._

_And, yes, it's something bad._

* * *

To be continued ...

 **A/N:** The last three lines are lifted, more or less verbatim, from a passage on page 555 of Sir Salman Rushdie's novel _The Satanic Verses_. So if they seemed to be the most effective lines in the chapter, there is a simple explanation for that-they ain't mine.


	30. Twenty-seven

I.

Mariko tried to shove the third unopened box of Pixie Muffins beneath the bed. It refused to slide anymore than half way under. Something was blocking it.

"I won't be denied," she groused. She moved the box out of the way, lifted the edge of her comforter, and stared into the cobwebbed and dust-bunnied darkness. "What the-?"

She pulled out a package no bigger than a shoebox into the sunlight, and then looked over the unwanted birthday present from the previous year. " _What_ was Reiger thinking?"

She pushed the nun-chucks back under the bed and then lay close to the floor and wiggled underneath. Although she was nine, her head could still squeeze beneath the frame, but just barely. She shoved the box all the way back until it touched the wall and then, straining to reach its corner with her finger tips, she turned it long-ways to allow as much space for the muffin box as possible.

"I need to ebay those things someday," she muttered as she began climbing out.

"Ebay what?" Kim asked, looking about the room for Mariko. She had appeared on Mariko's bed just in time to hear the girl's last statement.

"Rufina?" Mariko asked, turning her head in the direction of Kim's voice. "Oww!' She was still mostly underneath the bed.

"Mariko!" Kim leapt to the floor and helped the girl back out the rest of the way. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Mariko said, rubbing the side of her head.

"What are you doing?"

"Just hiding the Bacon and Chives from dad," Mariko explained, stuffing said box beneath the bed.

"Oh, Pixie Muffin time, huh?" Kim smiled and then paused. "I've only been gone a month, right? Not _a year and a month_?"

"Uh huh." Mariko nodded as she continued to work with the box. It mostly fit; only an inch or two stuck out now. She arranged the comforter so it draped over the box's exposed edge.

"He still can't help himself around those, can he?" Kim asked.

"He's not a junkie or anything. I mean, he won't tear the house apart looking for them," Mariko explained, "but if he sees a box, he'll empty it before he even knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, he did that when I was a Pixie." Kim nodded, remembering that when they were kids she had to hide her orders whenever Ron came over. Since he came over _every_ day, her ultimate solution was to have her father put them in the storage unit across town. She smiled as she then remembered an incident from junior year in high school. "He couldn't help himself when _he_ was a Pixie, either."

"I was just thinking about that a few days ago," Mariko said as she got to her feet. "I've known about him being a Pixie for years, but it didn't strike me as being weird until a few days ago."

"It's not weird," Kim corrected, "it's just 'not normal.'"

"True," Mariko conceded, turned and promptly tripped over her own feet.

Fortunately, she deftly turned the stumble into a graceful flip, landing back on her feet in a single, if slightly unbalanced, fluid motion. Her poise was deflated somewhat by the unexpected jangle of coins hitting the opposite wall and falling behind her desk.

"Are you okay, M?" Kim asked.

"I think so," Mariko nodded.

"What the-?" Kim asked before seeing the source for the both the trip and subsequent clatter.

The strap for Mariko's soccer ball-shaped mini-backpack was tangled about the girl's right ankle; unzipped, its contents-coins, glitter pens, a tube of grape lip balm-were scattered about the floor.

"I was wondering where that was!" Mariko cried. She bent down to collect the various objects. "This has been missing for weeks," she continued, swatting at the bag, "I guess I must have unearthed it when I was under the bed."

Apart from a slight eyebrow arch, Kim made no comment. However, something on the floor caught her eye.

"Hey! How long have you had that?"

"This?" Mariko asked picking up the old, bent photograph.

"Yeah."

"Ever since your mom said I could have it." Then she added, "It was a double."

Kim looked at the game day photo of her sitting on Ron's shoulders. It had been taken right after the Upperton game. A deep crease ran across the bridge of her nose, essentially severing her image's head in two. Yet, the angle of the fold gave it a weird three-dimensional effect, almost as if she were leaning forward on Ron's shoulders so she could look him more directly in the eyes.

"Why did you ask for this picture?" she said finally.

"Well," Mariko said, "You're happy in it."

Kim nodded although she didn't completely understand. On that Sunday afternoon four years earlier when she had helped sort the Possible family pictures, Mariko had seen plenty of other photos of her being happy. However, she didn't want to pursue the question.

Regardless, something in her demeanor still conveyed Kim's dissatisfaction with the answer because Mariko quickly explained, "I mean, I like seeing you happy and I like seeing Dad happy. And in the picture you're both happy."

"And, you know," she added with a shrug, "together."

II.

"She is from Yamanouchi, too."

The restaurant's lunch-time bustle made it almost impossible to be heard unless you yelled.

However, Kim had read Fukushima's lips. She knew exactly what he had said.

Standing in the lee of the propped open entrance (the only safe place for her to be during a rush in the Nosh Hutt), Kim had only been a few feet from the ex-ninja and had been observing him closely for the past five minutes. Ever since he had stopped to inspect the array of photos of family and friends Ron had recently hung upon that wall. Although she had no problem with him admiring the latest photo Ron had put up—the picture of Fukushima's wife holding their new-born son, Frederick, she did mind him staring at those of the Stoppables and the Possibles.

And it wasn't just a casual glance; Fukushima was actively examining them. And Kim's unease increased exponentially the longer he stared at the picture of her little sister in her Middleton cheer uniform.

Rina's decision to try out for the squad had been something of a surprise to her adoptive family (Kim included). Reserved and soft-spoken, she didn't seem the type to yell and perform acrobatics on the sidelines. Apparently harboring a concern that Kim had also felt, Anne had taken Rina aside and explained that just because her three older siblings had joined the cheer squad, no one expected her to do the same. The young girl had responded that it would be her honor to continue the family tradition; however, the reason for her choice lay elsewhere. She explained that cheering appeared to be "fun or, how Mariko-chan puts it, spanking."

Just as Kim's cheerleading skills had aided her forays into the martial arts, the reverse proved true for Rina. Although she was only a ninth grader, Rina's tryout performance got her a spot on the varsity squad. In addition to carrying on the Possible cheering tradition, joining the squad helped her ease out of her shell and make some of her best friends. And, of course, it was cheering that led Rina to her initial encounter with Laura Lockwood, one of the more soft spoken members of the Upperton junior varsity squad. And the girl that would become Kim's little sister's first love. 

Kim had been reflecting on all this when Fukushima's keening had disturbed her as he approached Ron's "gallery" and began perusing the pictures.

And when he breathed his pronouncement upon Rina's photo, Kim seethed. The tenuous web of generosity with which she held him in her thoughts burned away instantly. Although Kim didn't believe he was cut from the same foul cloth as Hirotaka or Sensei, she still didn't trust him completely.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally took his eyes from Ron's pictures and sauntered to the opposite side of the dining room. When the lunch crowd finally dissipated, he quickly stepped back to the photos and, as if he was somehow aware of her presence and trying to needle her, began looking over Rina's photo again.

"Hey, Outsider!" he called, waving Ron over.

_You creep!_

Even though Ron didn't mind being teased with this nickname, Kim couldn't stand it.

"What's up, Fooker?"

Ron's nickname for Fukushima did leaven her annoyance somewhat.

"Who is this?" he asked pointing to Rina's photo. "She's from Yamanouchi, right?"

"Yeah, sure is," Ron nodded. "That's Rina, Rina Possible."

"Possible?"

"She stayed with me and my mom for about half a year, and then Kim's folks adopted her," Ron explained. "She's a great kid, really smart. Just "

"Definitely not what Sensei had intended for her," Fukushima said pointing to the cheering picture. His smile faded and just as Ron was turning back to the kitchen, he said, "How old was she when you left?"

"Twelve."

Fukushima lowered his gaze to the floor. "She'd been initiated then."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, also looking at the floor.

"That is a shame." Fukushima said and looked back at Rina's smiling image. "However, it doesn't appear to have had any lasting effects." He turned to Ron, "Thanks to you, Outsider."

Although she couldn't say that she liked the ex-ninja, at that moment Kim found it difficult to dislike him too much, and his nickname for Ron didn't bother her quite as strongly as it had before.

III.

"Oh man," Kim moaned. She starred up at the overcast night sky and cried, "Why does this always have to be _so_ random?"

Seconds earlier, she had been watching her brothers lose an impromptu snowball fight to Mariko and Rina. The Doctors Tweeb had been "helping" Rina and her parents set up the Christmas lights in the Possibles' front yard and then decided that a snow-filled ambush would be more fun. However, Jim and Tim had not counted on Mariko. She had witnessed the attack through the front window, dropped her Bat Mitzvah prep work, and sprinted outside to the college student's aid. The girls had just begun to turn the tide when Kim suddenly found herself here: her bottom perched on the apex of an ice-glazed roof miles (and possibly days) from the shouts back in her own front yard.

It took only a few seconds for Kim to realize whose house she was sitting on. Even covered in a half foot of snow, she could recognize Ron's yard. She had looked on it from this vantage point in every kind of weather over the years. As her frustration ebbed into wistfulness, she noticed that the porch light was turned on, but there was no car in the drive.

As she looked to the surrounding houses, she noticed that they all still had their Christmas lights up. With any luck, she hadn't been away too long.

However, she had been at her parents' the afternoon of the day before Christmas Eve. It was very likely that she had already missed Christmas.

_Maybe, there are still a few days of Hanukkah left._

The ice covering the roof was not in a single sheet. Like a large jigsaw puzzle, it was composed of dozens of irregularly-shaped chunks of various sizes. The ice had apparently melted partially, cracked and then refrozen. This gave Kim a spark of hope—there had been a warm spell earlier in the week followed by freezing temperatures on the twenty-third. Maybe only a few days had passed.

The large fissures between the blocks of ice would make the roof fairly easy for her to navigate; however, Kim was not going anywhere. Over the course of her second life, she had learned that it paid to stay where she was 'placed' and wait for whatever was going to come.

As always, she didn't have to wait long. She spotted the lone working headlight of Ron's pickup floating along Jumper Drive. When the truck pulled into the driveway, Kim noticed a very large box in its bed. As it came to a stop underneath the porch light, she made out the illustration on the box's surface.

"The foosball table!" Kim exclaimed. Not only was she excited because Mariko was getting the gift she had been asking about for two years, Kim was also pleased because this meant that most if not all of Hanukkah hadn't happened yet. It was a Ron tradition to give the "marquee gift" on the second night of the festival.

The reason he did this was because his parents always gave the best present on the first night. Subsequently, the knowledge that he had only small gifts to look forward to pretty much made the remaining seven nights tank just a little. He moved the "big gelt day" gift to the second night, so Mariko wouldn't be as bummed as he had been as a kid. He apparently failed to realize that this didn't eliminate the anticlimax; it just shifted it a bit.

_Is it possible that it's still two days before Christmas?_

Kim was reflecting on the rarity of times she had "blacked out" only to reappear on the very same day when she heard Bonnie's voice.

"That's hours away, Ron. Besides, missing my date is not what's concerning me right now. I just don't think we can get this thing into the house by ourselves," the brunette said as she got out the passenger-side door. "Why did you have to get the biggest one they had?"

"Because that means it's the best one, duh! Besides, the guy at the store carried it out by himself," Ron said, walking to the back of the truck.

"First of all, that guy was HUGE. Second, he _didn't_ carry it all by himself. He used a cart and only lifted it _a foot and a half_ from the cart to the truck."

"Well-"

"Third," Bonnie interrupted, "the look on his face while he was doing it-"

"Yeah, but—"

"He looked like he was having a stroke, Ron."

"Fine, fine," Ron sighed, taking down the tailgate. "If worse comes to worst, we can push it along the ground. But it's not going to be that bad."

Kim didn't even need to look to know that Bonnie was also rolling her eyes.

Ron leaned over, gripped the box, and attempted to slide it from the rear of the truck. And then tried again.

"Having a little trouble, Ron?" Bonnie asked tartly.

"Just priming myself, that's all," Ron huffed. Making various unpleasant noises, Ron managed to pull the box over the lip of the tailgate. Any offers of help that Bonnie made were brushed aside with a shake of Ron's head.

"Maybe you should let it down easy, and we should go with your pushing suggestion."

_Exactly._

More and more frequently, Kim found herself in agreement with Bonnie's suggestions. Such a sitch would have been unthinkable in her previous life. It would have been difficult to imagine even just a few years earlier when Kim still got "edgy" whenever Bonnie was alone with Ron. Those days had passed once she had adjusted to the idea of Bonnie as a friend to both Mariko and Ron.

"Okay, sounds good," Ron nodded as he continued to pull. "Easy, letting it down easy," he mumbled as he carefully began lowering his end of the box toward the pavement. Suddenly, the weight of the box shifted and the foosball table jettisoned out of the end and hit Ron right in his stomach, forcing him to the ground.

"Ron!" Bonnie and Kim screamed.

Kim raced across the icy roof's surface. She reached the eaves just as Ron scrambled from beneath the table's weight. Bonnie had managed to lift the table and hold it long enough for him to scoot to safety.

Bonnie dropped the table against the pavement and went to Ron.

"The table!" Ron yelped hoarsely.

"Forget the table! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just knocked the wind out of me," he nodded as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. "That was a pretty badical save, Bon Bon. How are _you_ doing?"

"Fantastic," she said, shaking her right hand and offering him her left, "Let me help you up."

As the adrenaline from witnessing the would-be accident ebbed, Kim crouched at the roof's edge.

Back on his feet, Ron took a few moments to appraise the situation. "Are you up to pushing this to the front door?" he said finally.

"No, but I'll do it."

"I'm really sorry, Bonnie, I didn't—"

"It's okay, Ron, really. I've just had an incredibly long day."

Over the years, Kim had gotten so used to "the new Bonnie" that she hardly ever thought of her as the bitter rival from high school. In fact, even that term no longer came to mind. This wasn't a "new" Bonnie; this was who Bonnie Rockwaller _was_.

"Whoa, maybe I did do a number on myself," Ron said after righting the box on its side. "I think I'm bleeding."

"What?"

"I can't see any cuts," Ron explained, "but there's blood on my hand."

"Let me see." Bonnie examined Ron's palm.

"No," Ron said suddenly, "I'm not bleeding, Bonnie. _You_ are!"

"Huh?" Bonnie glanced at her right hand and then sniffed dismissively. "Right, I broke a nail."

"Hold on, you're bleeding because of a _broken nail_?"

"Well, yeah, that's what happens when you stop the 'biggest and best' foosball table from crushing a ninja."

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"It kills, but I'm trying to focus on Hanukkah," she replied dryly.

"Okay, let's do this thing," Ron said getting behind the table. "If you can just guide it, I can do the heavy work."

Bonnie tentatively approached the front of the box and tested a few grips along its top and front edge.

"Just let me know when you're ready," Ron said.

"Okay."

"Here we go!"

"No, wait—OW!"

Ron let go of the box and it fell flat against the pavement. "Bonnie, are you all right?"

"No!" Bonnie cried hopping on one foot. "I'm not!"

"Sorry! You said you were ready."

"I said 'okay,' Ron," Bonnie said through gritted teeth, "As in I would tell you when I _was_ ready!"

"Did you break another nail?"

"No," Bonnie spat, "I broke a _toe_! You pushed it right over my foot!" She leaned against the side of the truck.

After a minute of uneasy silence as Bonnie examined her foot, Ron nervously asked, "Is it really broken?"

"I don't think so. But it hurts."

"This isn't gonna put a crimp in your date plans with Dr W, is it?"

"No, no, Ron," she said, lowering her foot to the ground. "It's feeling a little better now." She cocked her head. "Dr. W?"

"Yeah, as in Dr. Whathisname." Ron replied. "I can never remember the guy's name." He shrugged.

"Dr. Reihman." Bonnie said, rolling her eyes. "Okay, let's finish this."

Kim had to admit that Bonnie was showing a great deal of restraint. Perhaps more than even she would have under the same circumstances.

_Wow._

With some assistance from Bonnie, Ron righted the box on its side once more.

"Okay, we'll try it again. When I say 'Ready'—"

"When _I_ say 'Ready,'" Bonnie corrected.

"Yes, Doctor," Ron nodded sheepishly and then got himself into position.

"Ready," Bonnie said and the two of them began to push the box slowly up the incline of the driveway.

"This isn't too bad," Ron said jauntily.

Bonnie snorted.

"Hey, it could always be worse. At least it's not snowing."

Almost immediately, Kim heard the high clinking sound of sleet approaching from the west. Within seconds, the roof, the yard, and the drive were alive with the tiny bouncing ice pellets.

Kim closed her eyes and heard the now familiar sound of the box landing upon its face in the driveway.

 _You are_ SO _dead, Ron._

"I feel like I should say something," Bonnie said finally, "but I'm pretty sure it would only be redundant."

"You can say that again," Ron replied despondently.

Bonnie snorted and then began to laugh.

"What?" Ron asked.

Bonnie laughed louder.

Kim sighed and bent her head to her knees. As she watched the tinkling sleet rebound along the edge of the roof, she suddenly realized was all that she could hear. Bonnie had stopped laughing. And Ron was surprisingly silent.

Kim raised her head. And discovered why neither was speaking.

Sleet was coming down harder now. So hard that Kim could hear nothing else.

Balefully, she stared at the fractured sheet of ice that covered Ron's backyard. But she saw nothing.

_Don't cry._

She was trembling furiously but not from the cold. Wrapping her arms about her knees, Kim tried to maintain control. It wasn't working that well.

_Don't cry._

Kim was trying to reason things out, but her thoughts were going too fast, and her memories were impinging upon her.

_Don't cry._

Since that first day in Yamanouchi, Kim had understood that she could never be together with Ron. Ever. And every following day had been brought this fact home in dozens of ways. And each time the realization hurt, but she never failed to accept its truth.

She was dead and seventeen forever. Ron was alive and continually advancing beyond the fading shadow cast by their teenaged romance.

_Never. No way. Not possible._

However, Kim discovered now that although she had understood the terrible truth, she had never _known_ it. Not until she witnessed the kiss Ron shared with Bonnie in the middle of a driveway during an ice storm on the night before the night before Christmas.

_Don't. Cry._

Kim stared past Ron and Mariko's backyard to the dull flat neighborhoods that spread out against the horizon, all buried in ice. And listened to the sleet and the mounting wind.

Up ahead in the tunnel that forever stretched out ahead of her, a dim light had been extinguished. It wasn't a light she had even noticed before, and yet that somehow made its loss all the more devastating.

She could no longer control her shaking; her teeth began to chatter. But, of course, not because she was cold.

Unbidden the memories came. She resisted them, but they still filtered through her defenses. A handful from high school. One from Pre-K.

_Gone._

"Goodbye, Ron," Kim managed as her vision cracked and melted with tears.

IV.

"What are we talking about here?" Regine Fukushima's question wasn't so much an inquiry as it was a warning.

"You probably don't want to know," her husband admitted. He got up and relieved her of the two bottles she was holding, placed them absently on the table, and sheepishly took back his seat in the booth across from Ron. When he realized this pathetic evasion wasn't going to head off a row, he came clean. "Old times," he sighed.

She directed her gaze to Ron and then back to her husband. Finally, she said, "As long as 'old times' stay old, I guess it's okay to talk about them every once in a while."

"Thanks for under—"

"In a _great_ while." She turned and swiftly disappeared behind the Nosh Hutt's counter.

"Wow," Ron said, breaking the silence, "it's been years since we took swings at each other. She's still that bothered by it?"

"No, no," Fukushima said, "she just hates me talking about my time at Yamanouchi."

"That makes sense. I try never to talk about those days, but if I did, I'm sure Bonnie wouldn't like it too much, either."

For her part, Kim wished that either one of them had more thoroughly answered Regine's question. A few moments earlier she had been keeping Mariko company during a Sunday night babysitting job when she suddenly found herself inside the restaurant just as the question was being asked. A summary on their conversation up to that point would have been helpful.

"It seemed like he was going crazy, then?" Fukushima asked.

"I didn't think so at the time," Ron said, "but looking back on those final few weeks, it's kinda obvious that not all his hamsters were spinning their wheels."

Fukushima shook his head. "I can't believe he actually sent you out after _me_. I was doing stock work in a Go City Smarty Mart at the time-what possible danger did I pose?""

"Well, he said you were gathering the Monkey Ninjas."

"What?" Fukushima nearly knocked over his untouched drink. "Even if you ignore the fact that I haven't the first clue as to how to do that, why in the world would I want to do that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ron nodded, "I know it's crazy."

"Whack is what it is." Fukushima corrected.

During this last exchange Kim noticed that Ron was holding a beer bottle.

_Since when does Ron drink?_

Although she hadn't been keeping Ron's imbibing under tight surveillance, Kim felt sure she would have known if he had begun drinking alcohol on a regular basis. She tried to ignore the twinge of melancholy this realization produced. Ron's drinking was yet another example of how he had grown older while she remained a teen.

It was with this wistfulness that she watched her best friend tip his bottle back at approximately the same time Fukushima took a sip from his. Needless to say, she was taken somewhat aback when they both sprayed the table with foam.

"Oh, man!" Ron exclaimed.

"What the-?" Fukushima cursed.

They examined their respective bottles for a few seconds and without even wiping them off-Kim noted with no small degree of disgust, exchanged them. Ron had apparently grabbed Fukushima's beer, and Fukushima had picked up Ron's sarsaparilla.

"So much stuff from those last weeks makes sense now," Ron said with satisfaction. "The random missions, the Mandrill, that business about Mariko being the Lotus Child-"

Fukushima grabbed Ron's elbow. " _What_?" His black eyes were urgent.

Ron glanced warily at the grip the former ninja had on his arm. "The Mandrill, this really hideous idol from—"

Fukushima shook his head, "Not that! Sensei thought your daughter was the Lotus Child?"

Fukushima's sudden movement jolted Kim, but his reference to the Lotus Child, the one secret of Yamanouchi that she most desired to unravel, ratcheted her senses to an entirely different plane.

"Yes," Ron said, Fukushima's graveness beginning to seep into him, "for a couple of days he seemed pretty convinced that she was. She even went through a ceremony to test it."

"She failed, right?" Fukushima asked.

"Yeah, she failed."

Fukushima smiled and then sank back into the booth. "Good. I thought she _must_ have, but it—it's still good to know."

"You know," Ron said, his voice and manner still grave, "I was starting to think that the entire 'Lotus Child' business was an offshoot of Sensei's senility. But something tells me that's not true."

"Oh no, Stoppable-san, the Lotus Child is most definitely real." The ex-ninja sat up slowly and then leaned over the table and motioned Ron to lean over as well.

It was a bit of a trick for Kim to lean in close without setting off their keening, but she determined the most appropriate distance before Fukushima began to speak. Still, it was difficult to hear him when he did.

"Why are you whispering?" Ron asked. "Regine's way in the back. If what you've got to tell me is that bad, I can let you know when she's coming."

"No, no," the ex-ninja replied in his normal voice, "it's not that." He shrugged. "I just whisper whenever I talk about that place."

"You mean the cave?" Ron asked.

"Yeah." Fukushima nodded solemnly.

_Wait a minute, what cave?_

"One of the last scrolls I discovered before I got too angry and had to get out of that place mentioned a prophecy concerning the Lotus Child."

 _The cave on the cliff? Those were_ Fukushima's _footprints and tracks? And Ron_ already _knows about this?_

" _That_ might have been a good conversation for me to overhear," Kim groused.

"Well, what did it say?" Ron asked impatiently.

Fukushima was about to answer and then stopped short. "First, tell me what _he_ told you about it."

"Well, he told me that once every thousand years or so a Monkey Master has a little boy or girl who has the M.M.P. from the time they are really small."

Fukusima nodded. "Yes. An heir who possesses the Mystical Monkey Power from the time he or she can walk. What else?"

"That the kid would be the Lotus Child," Ron continued, "and would be destined for great things."

"True enough. Anything else?"

Ron shook his head. "I assumed he was going to fill in the blanks once she passed the test."

"So you were pretty sure she was the Lotus Child?"

"Well, yeah. Not trying to be big-heady, but I mean he didn't even mention the Lotus Child until I told him about some of the strange things that happened in Middleton before we returned."

"What strange things?"

For the briefest instant, the hair on the back of Kim's neck bristled and she had to fight the compulsion to take a few steps away from the table.

"Well, Mariko flew all about a room for about a solid minute," Ron affirmed. "Or, at least, my elderly and almost blind naked mole rat said she did."

After a beat, Fukushima asked, "Anything else?"

"Yes, I saw her do it, too. Once."

"Interesting," Fukushima said finally, "but she was already school-age when this happened, right? The prophecy concerns someone much younger and that. Furthermore, the Lotus Child would posses _all_ the powers of an adult Master. Transforming the Blade, for example."

"That was basically the entire test, and Mariko couldn't do it." He frowned. "She was pretty disappointed."

"It would have been far worse, Stoppable-san, if she has passed."

"Go on." Ron's pupils betrayed the vaguest tinge of cobalt.

"Sensei lied when he said a Lotus Child comes along every thousand years. There will only be one. Although he is indeed destined for greatness, the greatness can only mean Sensei's downfall."

"What do you mean?"

"The Lotus Child is supposed to be the redeemer of Yamanouchi. He will herald a new golden age for the school and sweep away the centuries of darkness."

"Turn it back into an anti-ninja school," Ron said. "And overthrow Sensei."

"And if your daughter had passed that test," Fukushima let his words trail off.

"Regine!" Ron called as he climbed quickly out of the booth, his boundary shoving Kim to one side.

"Stoppable-san?" Fukushima asked.

"Ron?" Regine cried from the back.

"I got to be some place," he answered Fukushima tersely. "I'm going out, be back in a few," he called to his assistant manager.

Kim scrambled back to her feet and just made it out the restaurant's front door before it could close. Ron had already started his truck, and it was all she could do to leap into its flatbed before it tore off down the street. Fully extending her arms and legs, she braced herself in a corner and prayed that he didn't hit any major bumps on the way. She had little doubt where he was going.

Less than five minutes later, the truck came to an abrupt stop. Climbing out of the bed, she saw Ron racing across the practice field. She took off after him.

Mariko, in her Middleton JV soccer whites, was so utterly unaware of her father's approach that Kim felt it necessary to give her a heads up. She cried out the girl's name causing her to turn just seconds before being enveloped in her father's fierce embrace.

After the momentary shock wore off, Mariko wore a bemused expression for the first minute or so. But this started to fade once she realized her father was crying.

To her anxious, questioning expression, Kim could only answer, "It's okay."

After a few moments, Mariko began to relay these words to her father.

Once she began to cry, he relayed them back to her.

V.

Ann Possible sat cross-legged on the living room carpet, two paper bags to her left.

"Okay, girls," she announced pleasantly. "Ready to help?"

"Certainly, Possible-san," twelve-year-old Rina said with a slight bow. She eyed the two bulging bags with furtive curiosity.

"What are we going to do, MrsDrP?" five-year-old Mariko asked as she pulled herself away from the football game on television and plopped down on her knees in front of Kim's mother.

"Well, I'm still trying to get everything in our bedroom straight, and the next leap I wanted to make was in sorting out these." She indicated the two bags.

"Wow," Mariko said with appreciation, "these are old-school grocery bags, aren't they? My Bubbe has some in her basement."

"Well, I guess they could be considered 'old school.'"

"Coolio!" Mariko exclaimed touching one of them gently. "It's made out of _paper_. Here, Rina, feel it!"

"It has been a while since stores carried paper bags," Ann admitted, "but are they really _that_ impressive?"

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded as Rina tentatively reached out to feel the coarse paper. "So are we going to sort them to see which one you keep and which one you're going to sell for big bucks of eBay?"

"I think Mom wants to sort what's _in_ the bags, Mariko," Kim said from her perch on the armrest of the couch. She gave Mariko a smirk that in her previous life had been reserved for the little girl's father.

"No, Mariko, I was probably just going to recycle the bags," Anne explained, "But I did need help in sorting what's inside them." Ann tipped the left bag on its side whereupon dozens of photographs cascaded onto the floor.

"Pictures!" Mariko cried happily. "And just like the ones Bubbe has! Rina," she turned to her older friend, "you can pick these up, not like the pictures on the internet."

"Yes," Ann smiled. "And the first thing I need help with is finding all the doubles. Each picture has at least one copy, and I need to pair them up." She searched the pile for a moment and plucked up two exact pictures of an adolescent Jim and Tim. "Like these here," she said showing them to Mariko and Rina. "Originally, the doubles were together, but," she cast a look to the pile, "things have gotten mixed-up over the years."

The nostalgia Kim felt at seeing the Tweebs from their pre-teen years was tempered somewhat by the realization that the rocket-tracking prototype they were working on in the photo had been made from "spare" parts the pair had "utilized" from many of her electronic possessions.

"I see," Rina nodded. "Timothy-san and James-san," she asked taking the pictures from Ann.

Ann nodded.

"No way!" Mariko cried. "That's Uncle Jim and Uncle Tim?"

"Yes. My little brothers actually were _little_ brothers at one point," Kim said from the couch.

"Stoppable-san?" Rina asked holding out another photograph to Ann.

"Yes, it is," Ann replied. "You'll actually come across quite a few of Mariko's daddy in these bags."

Because she was sitting almost directly behind Rina, Kim was only able to see the back of the photo. She considered moving, but then decided that there would be plenty of opportunities to see pictures of Ron as the sorting went on if she stayed where she was.

And she wasn't mistaken.

"Oh, I found its double," Mariko said excitedly.

"Can I see?" Kim asked shifting closer to couch's edge.

The little girl nodded and held out the picture to Kim. Caught in the middle of eating a slice of pizza, Ron was sitting on the Possible couch, fully engrossed in whatever he had been watching on television with a plate loaded with additional pizza slices in his lap. At the right side of the picture, there was a patch of purple. After a second, Kim recognized the shade as belonging to one of her favorite pairs of Club Banana pants and realized that the patch was her knee.

She gave a wistful glance to the spot on the couch that had been captured in the photo.

"We'll start a pile for the doubles over here," Ann said, indicating a spot on the carpet.

Mariko dutifully and carefully placed the photo of her father and Kim's knee in the designated area.

Fearing that the wrong photo might trigger a sudden and uncontrollable wave of sadness, Kim leaned back on the couch. Listening to the others describe the photos before glancing at them herself would give her enough of a time-lapse buffer to prevent any unwanted sniffles or breakdown in front of Mariko. Or so she had initially reasoned.

Her curiosity coupled with the almost unbearable preciousness of some of the pictures soon overpowered this precaution. And, within moments, she was crouched behind Mariko eagerly awaiting the next picture to be taken from the tangled mass of images.

"Hey, MrsDrP," Mariko said after a few moments, "I think you have more pictures of Daddy than Bubbe does!"

"Wouldn't be too surprised." Ann said re-stacking the pile of duplicates, "your father did spend a good deal of time over here."

"Possible-san, Stoppable-san was friends with you daughter, correct?" Rina asked.

Ann nodded.

"They were _best_ friends," Mariko enthused and turned her head to give Kim a smile.

The next few minutes passed pleasantly as the trio sorted dozens of pictures taken at the fiasco/coup that had been the Tweebs' sixth grade science fair. Kim's mother explained how things had gone horribly wrong and yet, inexplicably, right at the same time. Kim, meanwhile, filled Mariko in on the details her mother had chosen not to include (i.e. that the duo's project was the reason why all the science fairs since were only held outside).

"I enjoy this one," Rina said of a picture she had been studying for some time, "but I do not understand it."

"Let me see," Ann said.

Rina passed the photo to Ann before Kim could get a glance.

"Oh yes, the Middleton Mad Dog!" Ann exclaimed.

"Let me see, let me see!" Mariko cried.

Ann handed her the photo of Ron in full-mascot regalia, foam running down either side of the mask's mouth.

Mariko stared at the photo for a good while. "What _is_ that thing?" she said finally.

"It's your daddy!" Kim and Ann both said, laughing.

"Jinx." Mariko said after a moment. She looked seriously confused, maybe even a little worried.

"Jinx?" Ann asked.

"Nuh-uh," the little girl shook her head, "this isn't my daddy."

"He's wearing a mask, sweetheart," Kim explained. "Look, you can see his hands right there."

"It's just pretend," Ann explained. "He was part of the cheer squad with Kim, and he dressed up as the school's mascot. I believe he made that mask himself."

"Okay." Mariko nodded warily to Ann and then gave a brief look over her shoulder at Kim. "A mask. What's all that white stuff coming out of his head?"

"Well, it's supposed to be his foam, dear. Animals with hydrophobia tend to foam at the mouth and- "Ann began.

"It's just cream, sweetheart," Kim said quickly to head off what she feared might be a long, detail-laden explanation of rabies. "He thought it would be funny." She paused. "And it tasted like bananas."

"Cream?" Mariko asked, seeming to ease up somewhat.

"Yes," Ann nodded happily, "I believe it was some sort of flavored cream. Oh! Could you hand me that other bag, Rina?"

Ann began rummaging through the second bag, "I didn't want to get into this one just yet, but I believe a picture somewhere in here might explain things-ah, here we are."

"Who are they?" Mariko asked pointing to a picture of the Middleton Mad Puppies.

"Those are Jim and Tim," Ann explained. "When your father joined the football team, they took his place on the cheer squad."

"Oh yeah, my dad was on the football team."

"Here's a great picture of him in his uniform," Ann said handing Mariko another photo. "I always thought he looked very handsome in it."

Kim more than agreed with her mother on this point. However, she had to admit that as handsome as he looked, Ron didn't always cut the most dashing figure on the football field. The photo Mariko was now holding was a perfect case in point. In it, her father was running in open-mouthed terror from a pair of Lowerton tacklers. Not exactly the raw material for a sports poster. Although, she recalled, the yearbook committee _had_ included it in their football layout. A committee chaired by a certain Miss Rockwaller.

"I believe this is another photo with Stoppable-san in his uniform," Rina said, showing it to Ann.

"Yes, and Kimmie, too."

"Let me see!" Mariko said.

The picture had been taken right after the victory over the Upperton Urals—the game Ron had been so worried about that she had arranged an extra just-the-two-of-them practice to help build his confidence.

In the picture Kim was sitting on Ron's shoulders, resting her right hand on his head. He was keeping her steady by holding onto both of her ankles. It looked like she was playing with his hair; however, she had actually been trying to pat down his cowlick. She was looking down at him and he was looking back up at her. And they were smiling.

Mariko did not say anything as she held the picture, and this gave Kim pause. Although the little girl knew that she and her father had been a couple, Mariko had never before been confronted with a visual demonstration of that fact. How was she taking it?

Kim knew that her mother had been in relationships before she had met her father. In fact, she had been practically engaged to one of her former boyfriends. It was something easy enough to accept in the abstract. However, if Kim had come across a picture of her mother and some other guy exchanging the type of look she and Ron were exchanging in _this_ picture, "weirded out" would have been so the understatement.

"I like this," Mariko said finally and she turned to flash Kim a smile.

_Phew!_

After about twenty minutes, they completed sorting the first bag and began the second in earnest.

"I don't believe we are going to find a double for that picture, Rina."

"Why is that, Possible-san?"

"I believe Ron already has the copy of it," Ann explained.

"Yeah!" Mariko cried. "It was in his chest at Yamanouchi and now he keeps it in his wallet."

"It is a very fine picture, Possible-san," Rina said of the solo shot of Kim.

An odd feeling came over Kim when it occurred to her that she was wearing the same outfit as she was in the photo.

"Yes," Ann replied with what Kim noted as a hint of tightness in her voice.

In the back of Kim's mind had been the concern that the act of going through all these old photographs, especially those of her, might take a toll on her mother.

Until this last response, Ann had given no such sign that it was.

"Wow!" Mariko cried suddenly.

When Kim saw the picture Mariko was holding, she wanted to run screaming from the room.

It was a shot of Ron in his football gear and her in her cheer outfit sitting on the edge of her bed. And they were lip-smacking.

 _Intensely_ lip-smacking! And if that wasn't bad enough, Ron's hand was ferociously high on Kim's thigh. And if _that_ wasn't bad enough, her right hand was slipping into the back of _his_ pants.

"Oh, my," Ann said as she glanced down at the picture. "I don't believe _I_ took that one."

_No kidding!_

The angle of the picture suggested it had been taken from the top step of her ladder at the entrance of the loft.

_Tweebs!_

Although the picture of her and Ron making goo-goo eyes had seemingly had no effect upon Mariko, there was no way _this_ photo wasn't going to scar her for life. Kim wanted to say something, anything, to the girl to explain the picture, but every time she even looked in Mariko's direction, she felt compelled to cover her burning face in her hands.

"Who is this, Possible-san?" she heard Rina ask.

Kim looked up and saw that Rina was holding out another photo to her mother.

"Oh! How did that get in there?" Kim's mother replied. "I didn't think any of the photos from when Kim was little ended up in these bags."

"Oh, so it is of Kim-chan?" Rina asked.

With great trepidation, Kim glanced over Rina's shoulder. It was a picture of her as a toddler taking a bath. She shut her eyes tight and groaned.

_Don't, Mom. Don't say 'Bubblebutt,' please!_

"Yes," Ann said pleasantly, "this is the Bubble-"

At first Kim thought that her mother was self-censoring. That maybe she didn't feel comfortable saying "butt" around Mariko or even Rina. Perhaps she was even worried that it wasn't an honorable word. But then Kim heard her mother sniffling.

Kim opened her eyes and saw that her mother's head was bent to her lap, her hands covering her face.

Rina tentatively reached over to touch her shoulder. "Possible-san?"

"I'm sorry," Kim's mother said, raising her head quickly. She wiped at the sides of her nose swiftly, but she had missed the tears and more were coming down anyway. "I … I'm sorry."

"MrsDrP?" Mariko asked, giving Kim a quick backward glance.

"She always _hated_ it when I told that story," Ann said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Mariko got to her feet and hurried to Ann's side.

Kim was on her feet too. But she was headed in the opposite direction. "Mariko, I-I've got to go," she called out as clearly as she could before dissolving into tears. She bolted to the hall and began furiously climbing the stairs to reach the ladder that lead to the room that belonged to nobody.

As Mariko listened to the fading footsteps that only she could hear, she put her arms around the mother of her very best friend.

She hugged MrsDrP for a long time. And then she cupped her hand around the older woman's ear. For a few trembling seconds she hesitated, but, finally, she shared the secret she had never before told anybody.

* * *

To be continued ...


	31. Twenty-eight

I.

"Come on, come on," Mariko hissed. She had managed to inch her fingertips between the top of the separator and the Sloth's ceiling, but her attempts to pull/push it down to any perceptible degree had failed.

"Mariko," Kim said.

"I just need to get it down a little bit," Mariko explained as she tried once more to get the malfunctioning partition to budge.

"Mariko."

"Even a quarter of an inch," Mariko groaned, "as long as I can see a space, I can drop a bubble in …"

"Mariko, please stop."

"It'll be fine, Kim." The girl shrugged, "Besides, my fingers are far too numb for this to hurt anymore."

"STOP!"

Mariko froze. Then she opened her mouth, but closed it again. She wiggled her fingers free and whispered, "Okay, okay."

"I'm sorry," Kim shot an embarrassed look to her lap. "I didn't mean to yell at you." However, her gaze immediately leapt back to Mariko. "But I _need_ to tell you something."

"Ow!" Mariko was shaking her hands back and forth. "Blood flow-back stings!" She lamely countered Kim's glare with, "Well, it does."

"Please, Mariko, this is serious. I have a really bad feeling."

"You do?" The girl's attention was now focused, her eyes directly on Kim's. "Since when?"

Kim was slightly taken aback by the girl's question and shift in demeanor. "All week. Since Monday night."

Mariko nodded. "I have, too."

"What?"

"When I was walking back from school Monday, something happened. Well, actually nothing happened, but that's kinda what weirded me out about it."

Kim's mouth began to go dry. "Explain."

"Well, all of a sudden, I felt like checking over my shoulder. It was almost like I _had_ to look, you know?"

"Did you feel like you were being followed?"

"No, not exactly. It was more like I felt that someone was _hiding_ from me, and if I turned quick enough I might catch them," Mariko frowned. "I _expected_ to see someone and when there wasn't anybody, _that_ is what freaked me out." She shrugged, "I know that sounds nuts."

"No," Kim replied, "it sounds familiar."

"Okay," Mariko said drawing in a quick breath, "You're officially freaking me out."

"After you went to bed Monday night," Kim began, "I stood outside aside watching the stars, and then this feeling came over me. I felt certain I was about to hear … something."

"Something?"

"A sound from Yamanouchi," Kim said quickly. "But there was only silence." After a moment, she continued, "Since then, everything has seemed a little off to me, not right. Even something like Justy losing his phone freaks me out a little."

"I'd tell you to get out of my head, Rufina, but this isn't funny." Mariko rested her left palm against the partition.

"No, it's not."

"Well, what do we do about it?"

Kim had been wondering herself what the next step might be. Knowing that Mariko was also picking up on this vague sense of menace made it more than a just a feeling; it made it _real_. It also became imperative that something be done.

_But what?_

She half-consciously placed her right palm over Mariko's hand on her side of the partition.

"What do you think it is?" Mariko asked.

Kim began to speak the name, but they finished it together.

"Hirotaka."

After a few seconds, Mariko whispered, "Jinx," and Kim was gone.

II.

Once within the reeking shadows of a vast cavern ill-lit by clusters of haunted red eyes, Kim Possible had believed she understood death.

Death was the grounding upon which everything was based and measured.

The living, with their command of science and magic, could do nothing against the encroachment of its silent dominion. Their most ambitious, formidable, and heartfelt efforts made no imprint against its depthless surface.

But Kim had been wrong. Naively so.

Death was neither sovereign nor transcendent. How could it be when every instant of every day undermined it?

Death may hold all the cards, but it doesn't run the game.

_Time does._

Everyone and everything that came into being, existed, and then dwindled did so under time's ever-lengthening shadow. Even death. And the dead.

III.

Panicked and confused, Kim felt like she was going to be sick.

Keening impinged upon her on every side, she was surrounded by jostling shadows, and the darkness was broken only by sudden, painful stabs of light. Momentary dizziness gave way to an overwhelming sensation of falling.

She steadied herself by crouching low and then placing her palms flat against the same surface her feet were resting against. Her eyes blinked into focus as the multi-colored lights swirled over the backs of her hands. Looking heavenward, she made out a peculiar patch of darkness hovering beneath the impenetrable grayness high above her. The shadow was oddly-shaped, convoluted, and, for all that, fully recognizable, and Kim slowly began to regain her bearings. Her heartbeat was still racing, but she no longer felt as if she was going to collapse.

She had been present at enough school functions in the Middleton High gym to recognize the shape a basketball hoop took when it was folded toward the ceiling, especially in the dark. The hoop, the strobe lighting, and the deafening noise, which she now realized was music as well as piercing keening, all pointed to one thing: she was at the Spirit Dance.

Clutching her ears, Kim scrambled out of the circle of dancers that surrounded her to the relative calm at the edge of the bleachers. Scanning the crowd from her new position, she immediately realized she had made a mistake.

"Shoot!"

In addition to breaking the hard-learned rule to stay wherever she was placed whenever she reappeared, it was obvious that her retreat substantially increased her physical limitations. By exiting the crowd she had effectively cut herself off from a large part of the gym. If she needed to be in the middle of the crowd or even at the stage on its opposite side, the odds were not good that she could get there. Navigating between the shifting boundaries of dozens of dancers would be next to impossible, especially if she was needed at a moment's notice. From where she stood, she couldn't even tell where Mariko and Justy were.

_If they are even here._

Kim quickly scanned the building's exits—all closed. She looked back to the crowd, but she wasn't tall enough to see further than a few rows within it. The bleachers might have been useful if they had been pulled out. There wasn't even an empty chair on hand for her to stand on. Frantically, Kim weighed the benefits of scaling the stacked bleachers—certainly, she could see the entire dance floor from there, but wouldn't she be further isolated from the center of whatever action might or might not take place? Then her eyes fell upon the refreshment table.

Careful not to step on any of the platters, she maneuvered herself into a prime vantage point on the table. She couldn't make out the faces near the stage, but she had a good, clear view of most the crowd. Suddenly, she spied someone who might have been Justy, but he was quickly pulled deeper into the crowd and out of her line of sight.

"Oh, come on!"

Kim half-wished that she could stand atop the tower of jello on her left and then realized that she _could_ do that very thing. The triple-tiered green gelatin gave Kim the added foot and a half in height she needed. Within a few moments, she had located Mariko and Justy, standing near the bandstand. Unfortunately, the couple's proximity to the music's source made it impossible for Kim's cries to be heard. And since Mariko's focus was directed almost exclusively to her date, Kim's frantic waves and jumps also failed to get her attention.

As she waited for a break in the music, Kim studied the darkened corners of the gym and shot occasional glances back to the exits. Everything _seemed_ okay, but the one of the points of being a ninja was that your attacks were unexpected, right? And there were so many places in a darkened gym where a ninja could hide.

_And what … what if he's hiding in the crowd?_

She immediately tried to rationalize this thought away, but her heart just continued to race. If Hirotaka was already on the dance floor, there would be nothing she could do.

As the song droned on, the image of Hirotaka stepping swiftly from the crowd and approaching his oblivious niece flashed repeatedly across Kim's mind. His infernal smile. His crimson eyes pooling down both cheeks. Her heart felt like it would explode when the music finally stopped.

"MARIKO!" Kim's shrill cry echoed across the rafters.

The girl screamed, and Kim's heart stopped.

The awful silence seemed to go on forever and everyone seemed to be frozen, even Kim. The only person who was moving was Mariko. She had twisted away from the stage, her hair hiding her lowered face.

"Well," a tentative voice from the stage began, "Thanks, M. People usually don't scream until _after_ I start singing."

Kim was only obliquely aware of the laughter Sean Mankey's comment had elicited from the crowd; she was still centered on Mariko. She wrenched a tiara from her hair, and her eyes locked onto Kim's. The anguish in those eyes was unmistakable. Kim had seen the identical look on the girl a handful of times before and limitless times on Ron. Anguish from acute embarrassment, not pain.

Although the initial relief pushed aside any guilt Kim would normally have felt for embarrassing Mariko in front of such a large crowd, it didn't supersede her urgency to protect her.

"Hirotaka!" Kim cried.

Mariko cupped a hand behind her ear.

"Hirotaka!" Kim cried again as Sean announced the song his band was going to play.

Mariko shook her head, and Justy whispered something in her ear.

"YOUR UNCLE!" Kim screamed as the drummer began to count time with his sticks.

Confusion clouded Mariko's features, but Kim was certain the girl had heard her this time because she was mouthing the two words back to her. Then Mariko's expression broke, and she cried out just before the rising notes of the song swallowed her voice, "Hirotaka?"

"YES!" Kim screamed back, nodding exaggeratedly for emphasis.

Mariko beamed back and gave Kim a thumbs up.

_What?_

Kim shook her head and futilely cried over the music, "What does that mean?"

Mariko nodded as if she had heard Kim's question, but only continued to smile and held her thumb even higher.

"That doesn't make sense," Kim said in exasperation. Knowing she couldn't be heard, she simply shot out both arms in a "what gives" gesture.

As the song began to build, the kids around Mariko and Justy started to dance and, as a result, Kim's view of them became obscured. Fortunately, Mariko kept the line of sight between them relatively clear by hopping up and down. She cupped her hands around her mouth as she jumped. Whether the girl was actually yelling was impossible to discern, but she was mouthing the letter's "O" and "K" over and over again.

Kim didn't know how to respond emotionally to the message the girl was straining to convey. Could things really be okay? Could her fears, no, _their fears_ about Hirotaka have been resolved in the day and a half Kim had been absent? Or had they been completely unfounded to begin with?

She shook her head. Only a conversation with Mariko could fully put the matter to rest. While pondering how long she might have to wait, Kim noticed Mariko was trying to keep something from falling from her head as she hopped up and down. She absently recalled the tiara, and then she realized.

"No freaking way!" Kim cried. A quick glance at Justy, who was awkwardly twirling a gaudy baton-like "scepter" over his knuckles, confirmed her suspicion.

"You won! You won!" Kim squealed, jumping in place atop the fruit-speckled gelatin. "Oh, I am so happy for you, sweetheart!" she called through cupped hands.

Mariko sent a puzzled look across the sea of thunder and moving shadows. Kim's congratulations would have to wait as well. She smiled broadly and gave the girl a thumbs up. After a bright nod of acknowledgement, Mariko snatched up Justy's hand and the two were swallowed by the dancing mass that encircled them.

Kim caught herself nodding her head in time with the beat of the music. The tension that had been tightening in her chest for what seemed weeks perceptibly began to ease.

_Oh shoot!_

"That means I missed their dance!" Kim was majorly tweaked. She remembered Mariko saying that the waltz was supposed to happen after the Prince and Princess were chosen. If she was going to be plopped down in the middle of the dance why couldn't it have been a few minutes earlier? Not seeing Mariko and Justy elected tanked, but she had really wanted to see them waltz. She didn't even need to see their entire dance, just the last few seconds would have been enough. And then it dawned on Kim that if she was seriously grousing over "being late" to a high school dance, her weird-dar was effectively no longer engaged.

She allowed herself a relieved sigh and sat down.

"No one's even touched it. I knew I made too much."

Kim turned in the direction of this complaint and saw Bonnie and Ron approaching the table. Each was pushing a trolley loaded with food. Maybe it was the fact that she was back in the Middleton gym but Kim found herself reflexively checking her person to make sure there was nothing Bonnie could find fault with. It went without saying that high school Bonnie would have had a field day if she could have come across Kim sitting on the top of a jello mold.

Ironically, the gelatin was Bonnie's point of focus. "Just great. Remind me why I got up at five this morning again?"

"To walk your dog," Ron offered as he replaced an empty tray on the table with one filled with Burrizas. "Well, you know, if you had one."

Their close proximity allowed their voices to be just audible over the music; equally fortunate, the jello tray was far enough from the side of the table that Kim didn't set off their keening.

"Not funny, Ron," Bonnie said without looking at him.

"Don't worry, Bonnie, they won't be able to resist it for much longer." He looked over his shoulder at the mob of dancing teens, "I sense a feeding frenzy building." He leaned over and dug out a large chunk with his fingers.

Kim winced against his keening; he had come very closer to her shin.

"Ron!" Bonnie cried.

"What?"

"In case someone actually does eat it, I'd rather it not be contaminated."

"Hey," Ron protested, "I washed my hands … an hour or so ago."

"And the Board of Health hasn't shut you down because …?"

"Well, hey, if some kids do get sick, it would be job security for you, right?"

Bonnie didn't answer. Instead she was looking into the crowd. "Have they already waltzed yet?"

"Nah," Ron placed a tray of what under the swirling lights looked like blue chicken parmesan near the table's edge. "Barkin said that wouldn't happen until nine at least."

"What's wrong, Ron?"

Bonnie was getting very good at reading Ron. Although he seemed in a pretty chipper mood by an average person's standards, Kim had to agree that he seemed rather down by his own, especially considering that his daughter had just been crowned Princess of the dance.

"Nothing," he sighed. He caught the look Bonnie was giving him and reluctantly continued. "It's just. It's just being back in this gym makes me … I don't know."

Bonnie laid a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at up at her, blinked, and then began to open his mouth to speak.

"Dammit!" she muttered suddenly and jammed her hand into her pants' pocket. She took out her pager and stared at its green display with disdain. "Can I borrow you phone, Ron?" she sighed.

He handed her the v-phone.

"Don't think you're off the hook, Stoppable," she warned. "We're picking this up when I get back." She hurried to the exit.

Kim stared at her best friend as he stood alone and motionless on the darker side of the high school gymnasium. When he finally went back to distributing the food trays, it was with a marked listlessness. His face seemed deflated, and his eyes, when she tried to look into them, were hard to see.

She sighed, and, almost at the same time, so did he. "Jinx," she whispered.

"Ron." Bonnie was approaching with an expression that managed to be both grave and tweaked at the same time. Kim absently noted what looked, under the darkened swirl of the building's lights, like bits of confetti in her hair.

"Yeah?" Ron responded with forced animation that neither woman failed to detect.

"This really stinks but I'm needed at the office. Can I borrow the truck?"

"Sure." He nodded absently and pulled his keys from his pocket. He gestured to her hair, "So it's already coming down, huh?"

"It sure is," Bonnie replied, brushing what Kim now realized were fat snowflakes from her head. "Thankfully, it's not cold enough to stick to the roads."

"Snow before Halloween," he shook his head. " _That_ hasn't happened in a while."

"No, it hasn't," Kim agreed.

Kim remembered an autumn afternoon in Ron's tree house when similar unseasonable weather had occurred. But she couldn't recall which grade they had been in or even what they had done that day. Only the memory of the flakes coming through the window and immediately melting upon the tree house's floor came to her.

"I may not get finished for a while," Bonnie said, handing Ron back his phone.

"Oh, that's cool. I'm sure Barkin will let me pick up the trays and everything tomorrow. And I'll just catch a ride with the kids."

Bonnie gave him a look as she took his keys. "You really think Mariko and Justin will be okay with giving you a lift home _tonight_?"

"Yeah … M won't mind."

"No," Bonnie admitted after a second, "she is _your_ daughter, so she probably won't mind-but still. Look, I shouldn't be _that_ late. I'll pick you up when I'm through, okay?"

"No problemo," he smiled.

"Oh, and don't forget to record their dance."

"No problemo," he smiled.

She hesitated, gave him a buss on the cheek and was gone.

After a minute or so, Ron wandered back to the table and made himself a plate of his girlfriend's gelatin that he proceeded not to touch.

Kim noticed that the music had suddenly grown quieter and a good deal more, well, melodic.

"Attention people!"

If Mr. Barkin's unctuous command hadn't gotten the crowd's attention, the teeth-grinding feedback from a microphone he had just appropriated from Sean Mankey certainly did. "Settle down, people," he continued, oblivious to their complaints. "We're going to attempt an actual _dance_ for the next few minutes, so restrain yourselves as much as you possibly can."

Ron raised his v-phone over his head and then stood on his toes. Although he had grown a few inches taller than Kim in the intervening years, he was apparently having the same problem she had had earlier in the evening—he couldn't see over the crowd to make out Mariko and Justy. Fortunately, he hit upon her solution and clambered onto the buffet table.

The groan the table made under his weight alarmed Kim; however, the new perspective allowed Ron to hold the v-phone at eye level. Kim stood on the gelatin once more and, following the direction of Ron's gaze, easily picked out Mariko and Justy. It wasn't until that moment that Kim took notice of what Mariko was wearing. The long sleeved black mini dress with matching stockings perfectly complemented Justy's tux. She looked stunning.

After he stared down the student body into silence, Mr. Barkin shifted his glare to Sean. "Think you punks can manage three-quarter time?" If Barkin had meant this as a private question, he had forgotten to take the microphone from his mouth.

Sean nodded confidently, if quickly, and the principal reluctantly handed him back the microphone.

"Uh, okay, guys," Sean began, well aware that Mr. Barkin was still keeping him under close observation, "grab your partners. This is an old song, but it's pretty cool. I think you'll like it."

The lights dimmed, and as the unwieldy crowd dissolved awkwardly into pairs, Kim gave Ron a quick glance. His eyes were just beginning to well-up, but he was grinning. She smiled and sidled as close to him as the keening would allow.

Within the first seconds of the gentle sweep of its melody, Kim knew that _she_ liked the song. It was such a refreshing change from the busy, jagged music that had been echoing throughout the building since she arrived. Obviously, Josh had passed some of his good taste onto his son.

Most of the couples were only half-heartedly engaged in the formal dance. In fact, most pairs were more or less motionless, holding their partners in weird "waltz-like" stances. Kim knew this was probably because they hadn't had lessons or at least none given by as good a teacher as her mother. Then again, the reason might have been that they were intently watching the Prince and Princess.

From the royal couple's very first steps, the Princess was clearly doing the leading. Maybe Mariko had simply forgotten, or perhaps all the eyes upon them had made her Prince too nervous. In either case this was a major problem because her flow was seriously off. She and Justy quickly collided, and both tumbled to the floor. Seeing that the royal couple was momentarily out of commission, Sean signaled the band to stop playing.

However, before Kim or anyone else could get too concerned over the sitch, Justy was back on his feet and gently lifting Mariko to hers.

In the tussle, he had dropped his scepter, and she had lost her crown. Fortunately, two boys who actually had been dancing (rather than posing) nearby stopped and quickly retrieved the lost items. Mariko thanked the couple and with a laugh placed the tiara on Justy's head while holding onto the scepter. Sean's band began playing their song from the top, and the royals gave the waltz a second try.

Kim flashed a look at Ron. He was holding the phone pretty close to his face, but the crinkles she could make out around his right eye demonstrated that his mood had greatly improved. "That's it, Justy," he said warmly, "never be normal."

Kim glanced back to the dance floor to see Justy gracefully guiding Mariko through her steps, the tiara perfectly balanced, if somewhat askew, on his head.

Perhaps it was Sean's singing, his intonations of the ballad echoed certain nuances of his father's voice. Maybe it was the song itself; although Kim hadn't been paying much attention to the words, the music was a bittersweet complement to the contented expressions on the dancers' faces. And, of course, the fact that she was once again within the pleasant shadows of the Middleton gym couldn't help but have some effect. Whatever the cause, as she stood next to her best friend and watched his daughter, who was also her best friend, dance with the boy who she knew had loved Mariko for more than a decade, Kim Possible became conscious of a sense of wholeness that she had not felt for a very, very long time.

**I took shelter from a shower, and I stepped into your arms.**

Kim reflexively shut her eyes when she heard the words sung by Sean Mankey. Of course, the unbidden memory they evoked was more manifest with her eyes closed. When dizziness threatened to overtake her, she opened them again, but kept them trained between her feet.

**Whatever happened to that old song? To all those little girls and boys?**

She blinked to clear her vision, but the tears kept coming. In a detached corner of her mind, she watched them as they fell. She tried to focus on this pinpoint of stability, to anchor the rest of her thoughts about it. After a few moments she realized that if she looked carefully and closely enough, she could see her tears rolling like drops of quicksilver down the sides of Bonnie's jello tower.

Anything to keep her insulated. To keep her from hearing more of the song. To keep her from acknowledging the reason she was crying.

Ron shifted next to her, and the spell was broken. Her chest hurt as if it was filled with small jagged stones, yet Kim felt compelled to raise her eyes and look at his face. He was still holding the phone in the same position, but the wrinkles around his eyes were no longer from smiling. It wasn't wistfulness from a sentimental father; something deeper and sadder was churning beneath his expression. Kim watched, helpless, as her best friend tried to hold on.

**I'm not singing for the future**

**I'm not dreaming of the past**

**I'm not talking of the first times**

**I never think about the last**

He lowered the phone, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and held the bridge of his nose tightly. This flurry of gestures lasted only an instant but seemed to cover an ocean of time. And in the deep waters of that instant Kim didn't care who Ron's tears belonged to (Bonnie, Yori, … her), but only that they _were._

**Now the song is nearly over, we may never find out what it means**

**Still there's a light I hold before me and you're the measure of my dreams**

Kim was resolved to do anything to end Ron's suffering. Even what she had promised herself she could never do.

**You're the measure of my dreams**

As her eyes scanned the dance floor for Mariko, her bold heart beat back the waves of anxiety quickly forming at the edges of her decision.

_To let him know I'm here._

IV.

Kim took a quick, reflexive step backwards.

She was suddenly standing so closely behind Mariko that one of the ends of the girl's tiara was almost sticking into her eye. Once she realized where they were, who Mariko was with, and what she was doing with him at that very instant, that single step seemed _so_ insufficient.

In fact, the only thing that kept Kim from tearing off as quickly as she could was the fear that by doing so she would invariably alert Mariko to her presence. And, thankfully, the girl's attention was blissfully directed to the lips of her best friend/boyfriend … for the moment.

Without an obvious alternative, Kim craned her neck as far away from the couple as she could, closed her eyes, and tried to stay as quiet and still as possible.

Of course, inside she was fuming. Why was she suddenly at the Silver Gazebo intruding upon Mariko and Justy? They had obviously left the dance and driven to this far corner of Middleton Park, _on her suggestion no less_ , to enjoy some time alone. And for what? So _she_ could pop in on them at the most inopportune moment?

Kim's face burned, and she futilely wished she could twist herself into a ball and roll away. Of all the times she had been dropped into the lives of her loved ones, none had ever been under such uncomfortable, embarrassing, and-given the memories stirred by the song at the dance only a moment earlier-cruel consequences.

_What am I supposed to do anyway-_ _**stop them** _ _?_

The question hung for a few seconds. And then, with eerie abruptness, Kim's anger disappeared.

She opened her eyes and then swiftly surveyed their surroundings. The light from the lamp at the center of the gazebo's ceiling was so bright that she found it difficult to see far into the darkness that surrounded the building. Its eight arched openings emptied onto a night of seemingly uniform blackness.

She maintained a stealth-like poise, but this was due more to a mission reflex from her previous life than out of a concern for Mariko and Justy's privacy. Her senses didn't pick up anything suspicious, but that only put her further on edge. As she scanned the interior, she noted with detachment that the gazebo had become rundown since she had last been inside it.

The bodies of insects hung in clusters of spider webs about the ceiling. Some of the floorboards were sunken while others, apparently replacement boards, weren't even painted. Kim absently hoped Mariko hadn't brought Justy to the gazebo _solely_ because she had recommended it. She certainly did not see anything romantic about the place in its current condition.

_There are even holes in the ceiling-_

The unsought visage of a masked and battle clad Yori peered down at Kim from between the branches of a tree that had been cut down years ago. From a buckshot-sized hole in the ceiling nearly obscured by the lamp and located behind Justy's head, a thin, dark reed protruded.

Kim flung herself into Mariko and sent all three of them to the gazebo's floor.

"My nose," Justy groaned.

"Hey! What's the big—," Mariko yelled.

The teens' protests were distant, muted. Kim's eyes were focused upon the still-vibrating dart sticking out of a floorboard a few feet behind them. And her ears were consumed by chittering and the clatter of armor that had erupted on the roof.

"Mariko," Kim cried into the girl's angered, hurt face, "Grab Justy and get out of here- _now_!"

Mariko hesitated for a fraction of an instant, nodded and quickly got to her feet. She pulled Justy to his and tried to get him balanced.

During this handful of seconds, Kim verified that the blowgun was gone. And that the gazebo's arches were filling with the red-faces of a dozen samurians. Almost before her mind could express the fear, they were surrounded.

Over the next few terror-filled seconds, it became apparent the loathsome warriors were not going to rush Mariko and Justy. They howled and gesticulated menacingly, but they remained at the gazebo's edges, and their swords remained sheathed. They seemed intent only on preventing the couple from leaving.

_To give the assassin a second chance._

"Where do we—," Mariko began.

"Don't move," Kim warned, placing her hand against Mariko's chest.

"But you said we—"

"That dart in the floor over there," Kim indicated with a tilt of her head, "is lethal. And we're surrounded." These words should have inspired panic, but Kim's assured manner and controlled tone of voice produced a peculiar detached reaction from Mariko.

"Try to stay as calm and still as you can." Kim had no intention of letting the warriors or their master know that their cover had been blown. She put her hand on Mariko's shoulder and, for the briefest moment, looked her best friend in the eye. "I'll get you out of this, I promise."

Fortunately, Mariko and Justy were no longer standing directly beneath any holes, but Kim had no illusions they were safely out of the range of the next dart. She continued to scan the ceiling for any sign of the blowgun. She couldn't remember exactly from which hole it had appeared.

_It was near the light, but there are so many-_

Shifting her attention to the samurians, Kim noticed that although their perimeter wasn't too regimented, it was pretty tight. Even though their victims couldn't see or hear them, the monkeys were not being careless. Escape was not going to be easy.

Kim looked back to the ceiling, trying to formulate a plan.

"What happened?" Justy asked.

"Still working on that, Honey," Mariko answered as calmly as she could. "Are you okay?" She squeezed his hand.

"I think I landed on the scepter," he rubbed his rear.

Kim glanced down at the two foot long rod.

_Probably plastic, but still._

"And you?" Justy asked.

"What?" Mariko chewed her lip.

"Are you okay?"

"Still working on that, too." Mariko increased her grip on his hand.

"Have Justy pick up the scepter." Kim ordered.

"Justy, could-"

"Slowly," Kim warned. "But not _too_ slowly."

"O-okay," Mariko replied. "Can you get it—the scepter for me? Slowly but, ya know, not too slowly?"

"Uh, sure," Justy said. "Are you _sure_ you're feeling all right, M?" As he bent down, a samurian leaned forward so that he was within inches of Justy's head and bellowed directly into his ear.

Although it jolted Kim, neither Justy nor Mariko heard his piercing shriek.

Encouraged by their confederate's bold display, the other samurians ceased to hang back at the gazebo's arches and began to enter the structure itself. No sign of an imminent attack, only a tightening of the noose.

Kim continued to shift her gaze between the encroaching horde and a possible attack from the rotting ceiling above them.

"Thanks," Mariko sighed as Justy handed her the scepter.

"What's that thing made of?" Kim asked, as she tried to sight-gauge the strength of the samurians' armor.

"Plastic, I think."

"Great," Kim sighed. Although it hadn't been her first choice, fighting their way out was now out of the question.

_Only one way now._

"It's too heavy," Justy said. "I think there's a pipe—"

One of the warriors behind Justy took a step forward and began to unsheathe his sword. At almost the same instant the blowgun reappeared, the trajectory of its aim at the base of the boy's skull.

"Smash it!" Kim screamed pointing toward the ceiling.

Considering the suddenness with which the command was given, Mariko executed the strike with amazing quickness and agility. Although it had a cheap plastic shell, the scepter, as Justy surmised, had a metal core. Added surreptitiously by Mr. Barkin to "man-up" the Prince of the Spirit Dance, the dumbbell pipe demolished its target.

Unfortunately, Mariko had not seen the blowgun and misunderstood what Kim had intended her to hit.

The darkness that engulfed them was filled with the invisible crashing of the shattered lamp and, for Kim, the hideous cries of the outraged samurians.

She leaped on top of Mariko, sending the girl and her boyfriend for the second time in as many minutes to the floor of the gazebo. Hard.

"Hold onto Justy as tightly as you can!" Kim yelled.

"Mariko!" Justy cried as his girlfriend put him into a vicious bear hug.

Kim locked her legs around her friend's and gripped the girl's forearms as tightly as she could.

"I'm sorry," Kim breathed, "but this is going to hurt."

"Hurt?" Mariko asked.

"Definitely," Justy answered.

As the menacing shadows rushed upon them, Kim braced against the pain that she knew was coming and all the terrible things at which she could only guess.

V.

The next few disorienting, vertiginous seconds were both eclipsed with a frightening rapidity and yet never seemed to end. Unlike her previous experiences of ricocheting within an enclosed area, the unpleasantness of this flight was not limited to the pain she felt as she smashed into objects within her constantly changing path. Kim also felt a sickening sensation of drag. As a five-year-old, Mariko had been so light that Kim had barely been aware of her weight when the two of them ping-ponged within her old bedroom and the Temple at Yamanouchi. Mariko was now heavier than Kim. And then there was Justy.

But far worse than the unsettling "weighted" feeling were the sounds. Although Kim always collided with objects on these flights, she never had any impact _on them_. Since she had no effect upon the world at large, these journeys, apart from Mariko or her cries, were silent ones. That was not the case this time.

Although the alarmed cries of the samurians didn't concern her, the sounds their bodies made as they crashed about within the gazebo did. These noises indicated that something was smashing into the warriors. Or that _someone_ was.

Ten years earlier, Mariko had been so small that Kim's thin arms and narrow back had been sufficient to keep her safe. But it had been years since Mariko could fit inside Kim's embrace. And then there was Justy.

The sound of splitting wood was followed by a scream. Kim was suddenly fully airborne, flying in an unobstructed arch over the darkened park. It took some seconds before she realized that the scream had been her own.

And that she was no longer holding onto Mariko.

Kim finally came to a tumbling stop. Ignoring the incredible soreness radiating throughout her body, she struggled to her feet and looked wildly about her.

"Mariko!"

Kim was extremely dizzy, and it took her some time to locate the gazebo. Its darkened form was some twenty-five yards away. A furry, hunched silhouette was dimly visible within its arches. Save for the distant clanking of samurian armor, an unsettling silence pervaded over everything.

"Mariko!" Kim cried again as she ran in the general direction of the gazebo. Twice, she skidded across patches of snow peeking through the grass. The closer she got to the building, the more her dread crystalized into the image of Mariko and Justy lying broken on the gazebo's floor at the warriors' feet.

"Mariko!"

A broken cry came from behind Kim's right shoulder

"Justy?"

Kim's heart broke when she turned and saw Mariko staggering within the dim light of a nearby lamppost. An ugly bruise was visible on her shoulder through a rip in her dress; both knees were bleeding through tears in her stockings. She held her arms closely to her chest; her heels were gone. Most distressing, however, was the dazed, unfocused look in the girl's eyes. Probable signs of a concussion or shock.

_Or something worse._

"Justy?" Mariko called again.

"Sweetheart!" Kim cried, running up to her friend. "Are you all right? Is anything broken?"

Mariko glanced at Kim for a second, looked away, and vaguely shook her head. "Have you seen Justy?" she asked. "I can't find him."

Muffled growls turned Kim's attention back to the gazebo. From this vantage point, she was pretty sure that Justy was not inside; however, the two samurians she could see seemed to be recovering from their ordeal. It wouldn't be long before they began to search for their prey.

"No, I haven't seen him, sweetheart," Kim said with forced cheer, "Why don't we look for him together?"

Mariko nodded listlessly.

Next to the lamppost, Kim noted a sidewalk that led down a hill to the edge of the park. Importantly, the path emptied directly onto the space where the Sloth was parked. The car was equipped with defense systems that could keep Mariko and Justy safe. But to do that, Kim needed to find Justy and somehow get the two of them to the car without attracting attention. She gently led the girl out of the lamp's glow and into the deep shadows of the park.

"Do you see him?" Mariko asked.

"Not yet. Still looking." Apart from the few streaks of accumulated snow that appeared dull grey against the deep black of the grass, she could barely make out anything.

"Justy?" Mariko called again.

The girl's cry wasn't that loud, but Kim grimaced and looked back to the gazebo. She could see three warriors now. They were just milling about inside. However, at any instant they might hear Mariko and come charging out with their swords drawn.

Mariko suddenly pulled away from Kim and began running directly toward the gazebo.

"Mariko! Wait! He's not in there!"

Kim chased after the girl's retreating outline until it collapsed some forty feet from the gazebo's arches. Fortunately, they were still somewhat hidden, just outside the penumbra of the light coming from the lampposts that framed the gazebo. At first glance, Kim couldn't tell why the girl had chosen to stop at that spot. It looked as if she was kneeling by a pile of dead leaves overcast in shadow.

But it was Justy. He was lying on his side, not moving.

As Kim went to her knees next to the trembling Mariko, she could tell that he was still breathing.

_Thank God._

She tried not to break down when she caught sight of the large, nasty looking bruise just above his left eye.

_Sorry, Justy._

"Justin," Mariko moaned, taking his limp hand in hers. "Talk to me."

"Try to whisper, sweetie," Kim cautioned, wiping a tear from her own cheek. She shot a quick glance at the samurians, but they had, thankfully, still failed to notice the girl or her boyfriend.

"Wake up." Mariko leaned close to Justy's ear. "Wake up."

"Let's see if we can pick him up," Kim suggested climbing back to her feet.

Mariko did not move.

"Come on, Mariko, stand up. Let's see if we can move him."

_If she can support him on her shoulder, I can support both of them, and provided his legs aren't injured …_

Mariko had still not moved. She seemed to be staring off into space.

"Please, Mariko, we need to get him out of here." Even to Kim's ear, the strain in her voice was obvious.

"Kim?"

"What?"

"What are _those_?" Mariko asked, pointing to the three samurians who had clambered out of the gazebo and were heading their way.

VI.

"You can see them?" Kim asked.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded, "what _are_ they?"

"Something we need to get away from right now—get Justy!"

Exhibiting more alertness than she had since Kim had found her, Mariko sprang to her feet, placed her head beneath Justy's languid arm and tried lifting him. She kept her eyes focused on the trio of monkey warriors that were now trotting toward them.

"C'mon, honey," Mariko grunted. He was too heavy for her.

"Here," Kim said, "we'll pull him up together." She motioned for Mariko to grab both of Justy's arms and then wrapped her own arms around the girl's waist. "On three, okay?" She set her legs in position and counted off, "One … Two …"

The sound of rattling metal came from over Kim's right shoulder. A samurian lumbered out of the darkness on their right. "Oh my God."

"What?" Mariko panted.

"There's another one right over there," Kim breathed.

Mariko jerked around so she was facing the warrior. "Where?" she whispered.

"Right there," Kim nodded in the direction the girl was looking.

The warrior stood on its hind legs and then sucked its teeth.

"Where?" Mariko asked again.

The warrior unsheathed his sword and advanced.

"Mariko!" Kim screamed. "He's charging!"

"Where?" Mariko cried.

Panicking, Kim tried to shove the girl out of the samurian's path. Unfortunately, Mariko had still been holding onto to Justy, so she only went a few feet, landing on her rear in a patch of snow. Immediately, Kim realized that the warrior's intended target _was_ Justy, and that she had inadvertently just provided it with a clear course to its target.

"Kick!" Kim screamed. "Kick now!"

As she had with Kim's previous command, Mariko followed this directive with admirable force and swiftness. The girl's foot struck the samurian's jaw and sent the monkey tail over teakettle. It landed in a seething tangle of fur and armor.

The expression on Mariko's face made it clear that the creature was no longer veiled from her senses.

Kim and Mariko's glances met for an instant, and then both turned their attention back to Justy. The warriors from the gazebo were almost on top of him, their swords raised. There was no time.

A cerulean-edged hemisphere appeared over Justin's body just as the first samurian reached him. The warrior's sword rebounded against the glowing surface and struck one of his confederates' helmets, sending him to the ground with a thud.

Mariko, whose cocoa eyes were just then losing their bluish tint, leapt to her feet. "How many are there?"

Kim, still somewhat dazed by the suddenness of Justy's rescue, shook her head and stood. "There are those three by the bubble," she said, noticing that the two conscious samurians were still futility striking blows against the force field. "And that ONE!" she cried, pointing directly behind Mariko.

The fourth samurian had located his sword in the intervening seconds and was now rushing the teenager from behind.

Mariko dodged his charge with a deft handspring, and the warrior collided with Justy's bubble. He and his sword landed in opposite directions.

"Any more?" Mariko huffed, watching the furry assassin struggle to his feet as his two companions continued to obliviously swing at Justy.

As a din of clattering armor and simian shrieks rose in the night around them, Kim nodded. "Yeah."

Gradually, several hunched figures emerged from the shadows. Their swords were drawn, and the fur that was visible between the armor plates was standing on end.

"Eight of them," Kim said. "In a semi-circle from there to over there," she pointed out their positions. "They seem to be holding back."

"Getting into some attack formation, so they can rush us from all sides?" Mariko asked.

"What it looks like."

"Upperton tried that two weeks ago," Mariko said, "it didn't work then. It won't work now."

Kim was going to say that this wasn't a soccer game, but when she turned to look at Mariko, she changed her mind. Gone was the dazed stare and the troubling languidness from moments before, the girl's stance exuded determination and serenity. And Mariko was wearing her "game face," that is, her mother's.

With a burst of renewed confidence, Kim positioned herself so she could be of most use in forewarning Mariko of any actions made by the samurians.

"Our friend has found his sword again," she remarked upon seeing the fourth warrior trying to sneak up behind the teenager. The warrior paused to scratch an itch under its armor and then resumed his "stealth."

Mariko didn't react to the warning, but before Kim could repeat herself, she heard a whooshing sound high in the trees.

"Did you hear—," Kim began, but stopped when she saw Mariko inexplicably holding what looked like a large frying pan. Before Kim could even begin to make sense of the scene, the girl had turned around to confront her would-be attacker.

After a second's hesitation, the samurian lunged for her. Mariko easily parried its strike with the pan. The warrior eyed her warily and sucked his teeth. In reply, she merely twirled her cookware by the handle like it was a tennis racket in her half-relaxed grip.

Kim anxiously eyed the other warriors, but they did not advance. They expressed their solidarity by hissing and leaping furiously about in place.

"Bring," Mariko said.

Mariko's opponent raised its weapon for a second strike. She knocked the sword from its grasp with an effortless swing.

The monkey stood dumbly for a moment as if he was considering the wisdom of retrieving his weapon for a third time. However, the rude hoots from his confederates chastened him. With four sets of claws bared, he sprung at Mariko with an unearthly shriek.

With the flat base of the skillet, Mariko struck the leaping samurian on the side of its head.

A brilliant flash of blue followed the blow, and, for a few seconds, everything froze. From the point where the pan impacted its head, the monkey began to rapidly crystalize into pale stone. Even the monkey's cry seemed to freeze in place. The sound lengthened, almost as if its single, piercing note was being stretched or pulled. And when the note finally broke, so did the warrior. Its head began to crack, giant fissures ran up and down the length of its body, and within seconds, it was reduced to a pile of shards and mineral dust.

When Kim looked back to Mariko, she was holding the Lotus Blade.

"Whoa," Mariko breathed.

"Yeah," Kim agreed, finally understanding where her friend had gotten the frying pan.

There was dead silence from the samurians. No noises, no movement. Even the two warriors that had been obtusely attacking Justy's shield had stopped. They were so still, in fact, that Kim wondered if they had also turned back into stone. However, their red faces and glistening black eyes dismissed this notion. Their "shocked silence" was a reprieve, but it seemed to be going on for a little too long.

"Mariko?" Kim asked turning back to her friend.

The girl's expression was peculiar. She was looking at Kim, but her eyes were off to the side. They rolled up into her head; her knees buckled.

Kim ran to catch her even though it was too late. Before the tears blurred her vision, she caught sight of Hirotaka standing at the shadow's edge with a blowgun to his lips.

The protective shield over Justy flickered and died before Mariko hit the ground.

VII.

It began to snow.

* * *

_To be continued ..._


	32. Twenty-nine

I.

Although dormant for nearly two hundred years, the volcano, as well as the andesite ridge and plateau that framed it, was avoided by almost everyone. The area's desolation was due in large part to its many unwelcoming prospects.

Nothing grew upon the vast lunarscape save for meager patches of brittle, colorless grass that encircled the occasional stagnant puddle. Viewed warily by climbers from both safety and challenge perspectives, the peak itself proved to be at once dangerous and unremarkable. Frigid, constant rain from the ubiquitous cloud cover was also a factor. Rather than a stinging sensation, the precipitation produced a gradual chill upon exposed skin that only revealed its true teeth after a few minutes' soaking. On the handful of days when the sky was not overcast, the few low-lying clouds present would hover over the volcano's peak, imparting the illusion of billowing smoke or steam.

The locally-accepted belief that the volcano's crater was pock-marked with multiple hells of various depths didn't help to lure visitors, either.

Yet it was in the mouth of this volcano that Sensei had dwelled for more than a decade. Although his deceptively rustic hovel boasted all the comforts, contemporary and otherwise, that Hirotaka could acquire for him, the old man spent most of his time outside in the elements. In the early years of his exile, he would venture on the precarious footpaths that snaked the walls of the chasm, but now he only sat by the edge of an oblong pool of water, a mere ten yards from his door. He would cast his eyes across its black surface as it rippled under the slate grey clouds. Day after day, he would track the waters for something that he expected but knew he was no longer privileged to see.

From beneath his robes, Sensei retrieved another small disc from its secret bag and slowly brought it to his lips. Removing its glittering mantle, he deftly placed the disc into his mouth. Sensei then rolled the bit of foil between thumb and index finger until it became a tiny hard ball. Once released, it dropped through space until it reached the crater's floor where it rolled along the intricate grooves of the andesite stone until it joined its fellows in a pile of dimly shimmering pills.

The distant chimes of his phone drew his attention away from the water. He was certain he had brought the device with him.

_Perhaps, Rina-chan has hidden it again._

With effort, Sensei refrained from the use of dishonorable language as he heaved himself to his feet. Laboriously, he trudged the path to his dwelling, following the tinkling melody as it died upon the sterile breezes.

As they had for years, these breezes swirling within the crater stirred about the countless tiny foil bearings that littered the interior of the volcano. Thousands accumulated in pink, blue and green drifts near the chasm's walls, thousands more edged the pool, and hundreds lined the upper footpaths that the younger, fitter Sensei had once walked. However, the majority of the chocolate wrappers maintained a scattered independence, strewn across the crater's floor as random and numerous as stars.

II.

Pressing her right ear to Mariko's chest, Kim made out the faint, but steady, beating of the girl's heart. Yet she felt no sense of relief until a cacophonous snore erupted in her left ear.

_Thank you, God._

The snore receded and was replaced by the unsettling wail of a samurian.

Kim turned her head and saw that the warrior who had minutes earlier knocked himself out with a blow against Justy's shield was staggering angrily to his feet.

And that Justy's shield was gone.

The samurians on either side of this assailant were still wearing the same stupefied expressions as when the Lotus Blade had obliterated their confederate. He, however, fixed his dangerous yellow eyes upon the boy's back and began to raise his cleft sword into the air.

Kim had already gotten to her feet and launched herself toward Justy before the full implications of her actions could occur to her. She had faced similar circumstances dozens of times before and managed to roll herself and her friends to safety, unscathed every time. Besides, her impulses, especially when others were in danger, had always served Kim well.

But that had been in another life. And in the half-instant before she reached Monique's injured son, she realized that things were going to go much differently this time.

The collision of sensations Kim felt when she impacted Justy's body at the same time the samurian's sword glanced her back was reminiscent of an electric shock. Not so much in its violence and intensity, although those definitely played their roles, but because she suddenly found herself somewhere else entirely from where she had been with no memory of the moments that must have fallen in between. She was lying in a shallow gulch some twenty feet downhill from the circle of warriors, intense pain radiating across her back and throbbing into her extremities.

Her suffering and disorientation were allayed by the knowledge that Justy had travelled the distance with her. And by the realization that she was actually _touching_ him at that very moment.

Shrieks from the hill brought her attention back to the samurians. Through the falling snow, she could see two staring in their direction. Their swords slung upon their shoulders, these didn't appear ready to strike, but Kim was not about to take a wait-and-see approach.

_If I can touch Justy, I can carry him._

He was still unconscious and, at first glance, didn't appear to be noticeably worse off than he had when she and Mariko had first found him minutes earlier. But as Kim got up, her eyes fell upon his right foot. Its unhealthy angle made her wince.

Shooting a look back to the hill's crest, she was relieved to see that the warriors were no longer glaring down at them. Instead, the were following their comrades who were marching back into the center of the park.

Hirotaka was leading this procession, Mariko slung over his shoulder.

The sight of her best friend hanging limply in an assassin's indifferent grasp awoke something primal in Kim. She took off after them, the wayward snowflakes in her path seemingly swirling out of her way. She made a beeline for Hirotaka and got close enough to see that he'd pulled his gi's hood over his head. That was when she heard Justy's cries.

Even though the snow on the ground amounted to little more than a dusting, making a sudden stop was not easy for Kim. She skidded a dozen yards before she regained enough control to halt her momentum and turn back.

Half a football field away, Justy appeared as a thin shadow staggering against the worsening storm.

"S-Stop! Mariko!"

His yells had no effect upon Hirotaka, who plunged further into the park at the same even pace. They did, however, get the samurians' attention.

Horrified, Kim watched as the warriors stopped and turned, in unison, back toward the boy. Their yellow eyes burned visibly through the driving snow. Sliding precariously, Kim immediately started to make her way back to Justy before they could decide to charge.

"Mariko!" Justy cried once more and then collapsed. His cry when he hit the ground chilled Kim.

"I'm coming, Justy!"

Kim had yelled without thinking. But as she made her way toward him it occurred to her that if she was now able to touch him perhaps he could hear her as well. Before this thought could gain much ground, a very familiar sound broke over the park: the beating of helicopter rotors against the wind.

Swerving to a stop on one knee, Kim turned and watched as Hirotaka thrust Mariko into the cabin of a small chopper hovering just above the ground. The assassin climbed in quickly and then his eleven samurians clutched onto the landing skids as the vehicle lifted off into the night sky.

When she reached Justy, he was breathing heavily, and appeared to have lost consciousness once more. As Kim bent down to pick him up, she burst into tears. Sitting on the snow next to Justy, she tried desperately to get herself under control.

_I've lost her. I've lost her. I told her I would protect her, protect them both, and I couldn't._

She had failed Mariko and Justy. Failed Mon and Felix. Failed Ron.

_I've lost her._

She got to her knees but could only cry into her hands as the snow swirled about her. For a long instant or two, Kim was overcome by a vertiginous sense of isolation, detached and adrift from everyone and everything.

And then someone touched her knee.

Kim started when she looked up and saw Justy, his head raised, staring directly at her.

"It's you," he managed with the faintest of smiles.

III.

Hirotaka was ill-pleased.

The helicopter was too small. Even after dispatching the pilot, the interior was not sufficient.

He had not anticipated bringing cargo on the flight back. And the problems Mariko-chan's presence created were not limited to those of space.

That she was no longer snoring was irritating. The NotI had taken affect the instant the dart had entered her throat. Her somnolent cacophony had been so pronounced that he had calculated it would be discernible even over the sound of the helicopter's blades. Once her body had been righted, however, she became silent.

He caught himself checking her over his shoulder every few minutes.

Wedged between storage compartments at the rear of the cramped cabin, her wrists and ankles handcuffed, the former behind her back, the girl's composed features gave Hirotaka the uncanny impression that she was feigning sleep. Like she was leaning forward in her seat, at attention to catch any word he might utter.

He cursed under his breath. The NotI had always worked; she would remain unconscious for as long as he wished. This fact, however, failed to satisfy him.

_Has the girl not already achieved the impossible twice tonight?_

Uncertainty was as unfamiliar to Hirotaka as it was unpleasant. He was accustomed to a world where things were fixed and definite, where the effects of chance were minimal and events unfolded in an almost predestined manner. Such a calculated existence required herculean efforts to bring into being but was well worth the trouble.

The events of the past twenty minutes, however, had not been predestined, or certainly not by _him_. The experience had been unsettling. Even now he was finding it difficult to remain focused on his current task. He redirected his thoughts, but the subject they fell upon brought even less satisfaction.

For only the second time in his life, he had failed Sensei. A lifetime of devotion to his master coupled with the infrequency of the old man's requests since his exile made the failure almost unendurable for Hirotaka.

Discussion of Stoppable-san, Mariko-chan, or the Lotus Blade had been forbidden in Sensei's presence for over a decade. And the company the old man preferred to keep was his own. When he did summon Hirotaka, it was to fulfill menial tasks whose scope remained within the shadows of Mt. Tateyama. Nothing about these errands suggested the old man's ambitions extended beyond those of a secure retirement.

Over the past two years, Sensei had seemed to deteriorate dramatically. When they spoke, Hirotaka was unsure if Sensei fully understood the information he had given him. It had grown apparent that his master was becoming just another weary, overweight old man waiting to die.

Hirotaka had been justly struck dumb on his most recent visit when Sensei expressed his intentions of regaining _both_ the Lotus Blade and the loyalty of Mariko-chan. His shock increased as his master revealed the details of the project. The plan was simple, honorable, and seemed assured to achieve its bold goals. It even promised retribution against the traitorous Fukushima. Within the space of a few moments, the doubts of a decade melted away.

Unfortunately, his master had interpreted Hirotaka's silence for doubt and his awe for incredulity.

"It has worked before, Hirotaka," Sensei spoke sternly. "It will work now."

And, yet, it had _not_ worked.

Hirotaka took full responsibility for the mission's failure, yet he knew not the failure's source.

In the beginning, fortune had seemed the mission's partner. Within moments of locating the girl, he had been able to identify the true target. The first boy to approach her exhibited the traits of a mate, but this was a false lead. Fortunately, the subsequent appearance of her number one boyfriend had been exceptionally quick and propitious. And once the week's social calendar became known to Sensei, the mission seemed inordinately favored. Sensei had counseled that the night of the dance would provide the ideal frame for the plan's execution.

"Such events have only served to heighten a mission's overall success," Sensei explained. "Most beneficial."

Placing a tracking device within the target's phone had brought no challenge. Coordinating the kappa warriors to track both the boy and the girl had been effortless. There had been ample time to procure the NotI for any potential contingencies that the monkey toxin could not resolve.

The only negative in the mission's setup that Hirotaka could recall had been a few moments of inexplicable anxiousness. These had occurred when first spotting Mariko-chan from his position on the school's roof. As he had watched her cross the field, he had been overcome with a desire to rush the mission to its completion—a compulsion he had never felt on any other assignment.

Yet something deeper than anxiety was the cause for his failure. Something that he could not explain.

The landing site was quickly approaching. As he adjusted the helicopter's altitude, his eyes fell upon the mark on the back of his hand.

The abyss yawned and Hirotaka felt its ineffable pull; however, he regained control of the aircraft after only a few seconds.

IV.

Kim's elation of knowing that another person was aware of her existence passed quickly. Justy had begun to shiver.

She carefully took his hand from her knee and gently laid it upon its fellow. Giving her most confident smile, she attempted to lock eyes with him. "We're getting you out of here."

Pleased to see that her actions and words hadn't alarmed or even surprised Justy, Kim stood and swiftly tried to determine the safest way to lift him without exacerbating his injury. Glancing over her shoulder toward the gazebo, she could just make out the Sloth parked on the street. The snow was falling harder now; there was already accumulation on the vehicle's roof.

Justy gave a start when she first put her arms beneath his shoulders and knees.

"It's okay, Justy. I've got you."

Her words seemed to reassure him as he relaxed once Kim got him off the ground.

Tentatively, almost as if he were blindly feeling his way, Justy placed his right arm around her shoulders. A few seconds later he brought his left arm over, locking his hands together.

Kim started walking.

The field was already filling with snow.

He was heavier than he looked. Although she had held Ron in the same cradle-carry position many times over the years, Kim had rarely done so for extended periods. She had certainly never lugged him a hundred yards through a driving snowstorm.

However, as an unforeseen positive, Justy's weight seemed to minimize Kim's tendency to skid across the snow's surface. She still had to stay focused on every step, but she had more traction than she normally did in wintry conditions.

Every few moments, she would glance at Justy's face to give him a reassuring look. And, of course, to make sure he was still conscious. Once or twice his eyes did appear to be glazing over, but nervous second and third looks confirmed that he was still alert. Alert and gazing fixedly at her face.

A concern flickered briefly over whether Justy would keep her identity secret. There was no question that he knew who she was-he had been over to her parents' house and seen her pictures countless times over the years. This doubt dissolved quickly however.

_Of course, he'll agree to call me 'Rufina.' I just need to explain it to him._

She tried to refocus on the present. There was no need to think about such issues until Justy was safe.

"We're getting there, Justy. Hang on."

Kim's arms were getting tired. Although they were already a third of the way to the car, she knew that she'd need to rest before they got there.

_No big. If I need to take a break, I'll take one. A short one. Just need to cross as much distance as possible before I do._

"I never thought," Justy said softly, breaking her concentration.

"Huh? I'm sorry?"

"…you'd be this warm." He tightened his grip around her shoulder.

"Oh? Ok." Kim replied somewhat perplexed. "Well, I'm glad. Especially, on a night like this, huh?"

The storm continued to build over the next few minutes. The snow was coming down so hard that for a few long moments Kim couldn't even see the glow of the streetlights along the edge of the park, let alone the car.

"This is ridiculous!" she cried. "It's October!"

Almost as if responding to her complaint, the wind began to abate and within a minute the flakes had tapered off significantly.

With a clear view to the street, Kim judged they were approximately half-way to their destination. "Okay, I'm going to set you down now, Justy. We're just going to stop for a minute."

She began to gingerly lower his feet to the ground. "Okay, just support yourself on your left foot. Try to keep your right elevated."

Justy didn't respond, but tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"Wh-what's going on?" he asked, nervously looking about him.

"It's okay, Justy," she explained. "I need to rest my arms a minute. Lean your weight on my shoulders."

He finally put his left foot on the ground, but still seemed highly agitated and confused. And although he was following her instructions, Kim really hadn't anticipated him gripping her shoulders so rigidly.

 _I may need to rest_ my shoulders _in a minute._

Awkward and uncomfortable, they stood side by side in the momentarily flake-less evening.

"Please, don't leave me." Justy whispered brokenly.

"I'm not going any-" she said turning to face him.

"I feel you, but … without the snow … it's like you're gone. Please don't go."

As he spoke, points of anxiety were evident in his eyes-eyes that were _not_ looking in her direction. Rather they were searching the night for where, she now realized, he assumed and hoped she might be.

"I'm right here." The deflated tone of her own voice depressed Kim. Although he undoubtedly could touch and feel her, all he had seen of her was a shadow—the 'negative space' outlined by the storm. It was also painfully clear that he hadn't heard a word she'd spoken.

"I need your help, please," he said weakly. "I need to save her."

Kim placed her left hand over his right and gave it a determined squeeze. "We will, Justy." When she looked him in the face, she thought she saw a smile briefly trace his lips. But his eyes quickly dimmed.

"She … she said I was brave," he managed before an abrupt spasm of shudders and tears caused his teeth to clinch together.

Kim hugged him until he was still. With the back of her hand, she gently brushed the tears from his cheeks. Only then did she realize that she had been crying too.

"Come on, Justy," she said finally, "let's go get Mariko." She carefully lifted his compliant form into the air and started once again across the glistening field that was empty of all sound save for their breathing.

V.

The mission's objective had changed from assassination to kidnapping.

Hirotaka had counted on Time and Death being his accomplices, but now they were his enemies. As his hypersonic craft became airborne, he felt no sense of safety or relief. Once Stoppable-san realized his daughter was missing, it would not be long before his suspicions turned toward Japan. And then what little advantage he currently possessed would quickly slip away.

In addition to everything else, the Chosen One had powerful friends. Team Possible was a force Hirotaka had been careful to give a wide berth in the past. Masters of a technology that far surpassed Hirotaka's considerable acumen; there was little doubt they possessed aircraft that could outrace his. The instant they became involved, any head start he had gained would rapidly shrink to nothing.

He turned his thoughts back to his "cargo." Mesmerized by the NotI, securely strapped to a seat in the jet's rear compartment, and flanked on four sides by dormant Warriors who would spring into action at the slightest sign from her, Mariko-chan posed no threat. Reclining her seat had also produced the much-missed snoring. Yet she continued to trouble him.

He had dumped the girl's phone at the park, and, prior to taking her onboard the jet, he had performed a quick search on her person for any other tracking-enabled devices. However, he now realized, it was possible that she, herself, was a homing device. That she might be "chipped."

With effort, Hirotaka restrained his growing sense of frustration.

One point in Sensei's plan had given Hirotaka pause. Weeks after the boy's assassination, Hirotaka was to appear unannounced at Mariko-chan door. He would have revealed Fukashima as her consort's killer and patiently explained how the former acolyte of Monkey Fist desired to end the Chosen One's line by murdering both her and her beloved. He would have then informed Mariko-chan that it had been her powers, her mystic inheritance, that had allowed her to escape and that it was now her duty to redeem her lover and to reclaim her rightful legacy.

Even if ideal circumstances could be attained, Hirotaka had doubted that Stoppable-san would allow his daughter to become Sensei's student once again. And, he believed, there were _no_ conditions under which the Chosen One would permit his daughter to take part in an assassination.

He had voiced these concerns, and Sensei had responded without hesitation or trace of rebuke.

"When the time is right, you will bring her here. Mariko-chan and I must speak privately." The old man had then raised his heavy-lidded eyes. "And if your mission should prove unsuccessful, you must bring her here immediately."

The look in Sensei's eyes had been so startling that Hirotaka had only felt vaguely insulted by his master's implication that he might fail to eliminate his target and then only minutes later when he was no longer in the old man's presence.

Now that he _had_ failed and _was_ delivering Stoppable-san's daughter to Sensei weeks prior to schedule, what would be the final outcome of the old man's plans?

What look would the old man's eyes hold for him, especially, if the captive he was delivering to his master was actually the means of his downfall?

VI.

As she readjusted her hold on Justy, it occurred to Kim that not only was he the first person other than Mariko that she had come into contact with since she died; Justy was also the first _guy_. Yet the experience of holding Justy, who was roughly the same size as a high-school-aged Ron, in a position that she frequently had held Ron didn't remind her of him.

Holding their son was not generating nostalgic flashes of Monique or Felix either.

Curiously, Kim found herself thinking about her father.

_Was Dad the last guy I touched? Is that why?_

But, no, she was certain Ron had been the last. She remembered kissing his cheek in his doorway before hurrying off to the park. In fact, as she replayed that morning's events, she became pretty sure that she hadn't had _any_ physical contact with her father. Not even a pat on the shoulder. He had been reading the paper and they had exchanged salutatory mumbles as she grabbed a bagel and headed out the door.

It was snowing heavier now. Looking up through the dark branches of the trees, she watched the silver and dark flakes descend about her. Kim needed to stay on her game. She blinked away the tears, tried futilely not to think about the regret their final parting had surely caused her father, and with renewed concentration made her way down the incline to where the Sloth waited.

Justy groaned.

He was not looking well. In just the few minutes since they had rested, his eyes had grown bleary. And the thin layer of snow had accumulated on his cheeks indicated that he was no longer brushing the flakes from his face.

"Almost there, Justy."

He closed his eyes.

"Come on, Justy," Kim cried, jostling him in her arms, "you need to stay awake!"

Even more than keeping him awake, keeping the snow off of Justy seemed vitally important to Kim, but she didn't want to put him down and delay getting to the Sloth to accomplish it.

Then Kim recalled something Ron had said sophomore year. His comment had irritated her at the time, but it now gave her an idea. A decidedly nutty, Ronnish idea, but it was worth a try.

Kim paused and tilted back her head. She snapped it forward quickly, sending her cascading hair across Justy's face. Shaking her head from side to side, she tried brushing the snow from his cheeks with the ends of her hair. Unfortunately, when she flipped her hair back and looked, the flakes hadn't budged. She draped her hair over him twice more before remembering the obvious.

Her hair, like the rest of her body, had never had an impact on objects, even those as ephemeral and small as snowflakes.

_So so stupid._

As she dejectedly turned her face, a strand of her hair went up his nose, causing Justy to sneeze. Although it almost made her drop him, it also scattered most of the snow from his face and hair. And woke him up.

"Excuse me," he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist.

"Bless you," she replied with relief, trudging ahead as the storm once again intensified. Justy's voice and reactions had seemed normal, so Kim shelved her concussion fears. At least for the moment.

A knot of perplexity formed between Justy's eyes as he looked about him, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Once a momentary gust of snow enveloped them, he seemed perfectly calm. His eyes focused on the space around Kim's head for the length of the gust's duration, and he kept them there after it had passed.

"I wish I knew who you were," he said finally.

"I wish I could tell you," she replied.

His statement mooted any chance that he recognized her as Kim Possible or even believed her to be Rufina. The realization brought a mixed sensation of relief and melancholy. Looking ahead, she saw they were only a handful of yards from the Sloth. But the footing was getting tricky again; she needed to stay focused.

The sudden warmth of Justy's tentative fingertips against her left cheek startled her. Kim glanced down at him and saw her surprise reflected in his expression. It was at that instant she realized the pins-and-needles sensation that had always colored any interaction between them was not there, and had not been since the moment she had shielded him from the samurian's attack.

 _W-what does_ that _mean?_

But her thought was suspended when Justy turned his hand and softly touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. And, once again, Kim was reminded of her father.

She slipped, and they crashed against the pavement.

VII.

His craft skirted beneath the lower boundary of the stratosphere; Hirotaka would traverse the ocean and arrive at Mt. Tateyama within a handful of hours.

Even after setting aside his concerns about Stoppable-san and other potential pursuers, his thoughts could find no calming center. He kept returning to Mariko-chan's actions in the park. Specifically, her detection of the kappa warriors.

"'They are known only to their master,'" he said thinly. Hirotaka was quoting their previous master, restating the words as if to make a long-held damaged truth wholly true once again.

One month earlier he had sat motionless for a day and a half upon the floor of a squalid flat in Oita. He was awaiting the return of its occupant, a dishonored yakuza. Outside his responsibilities to Sensei, Hirotaka's his talents were in high demand, and contract assignments such as this one kept him far from idle.

Inert and silent, Hirotaka had scarcely observed the rise and fall of noises from the street or the shifting beams of sunlight upon the wall opposite the apartment's blinded window as the hours bled into each other. He had been attuned only to the sounds that would announce the entry of the target. Yet when the expected noises finally echoed through the small room, he had not given the slightest sign of having heard them.

Hirotaka remained so still, in fact, that the yakuza did not initially notice him plainly sitting in the open among the sparse furnishings. However, within a few minutes the man became aware that _something_ was wrong. He inspected the shadowed corners of his room and then peaked between the closed blinds and nervously watched pedestrians on the street below for several minutes. At length, the man left the window and approached his door. For a few moments it was unclear whether he was examining its lock or was considering leaving.

Finally, the yakuza sighed and a semblance of relief cascaded down his person as he walked back into the center of his room. When he began to inspect the parched fronds on his potted plant, the man caught sight of Hirotaka's motionless form mere inches away.

Hirotaka had allowed the target two seconds of surprise before he signaled the kappas with a slight shift of his gaze. They had been shadowing the victim throughout the city for days and had entered the apartment with him unnoticed. Their dozen blades erupted from the man's chest, mouth, genitals, elsewhere. With disinterest, Hirotaka observed his minions retract their swords. The target collapsed to the floor, shivered and then ceased.

In that metropolis of half a million, the kappa warriors had gone unseen and unheard. They had also been cloaked for several days as they stalked Mariko-chan and her consort across Middleton.

_They are only known to their master._

There was only one exception: if a person made physical contact with a kappa, _that specific_ warrior's cloak would dissolve and it would become known to the person thereafter. Or for as brief a time as the person lived.

It was conceivable that Mariko-chan may have collided with one or two warriors within the gazebo and, therefore, would have been able to defend herself against these same warriors later and even to defeat one.

Yet after she defeated the one, she seemed to know where they _**all**_ were.

Indeed, it seemed as if she knew they were there when she was still in the gazebo. Initially, he had assumed that her improbable escape attempt from the structure had been caused by some careless mistake he had unknowingly committed.

In fact all of her actions from the instant he had trained the pipe upon her lover's neck formed a chain of impossibilities for which there only seemed to be one explanation.

_The Lotus Blade._

And that answer was unacceptable.

He had chosen The Path, assumed responsibility for the warriors and taken possession of the NotI specifically because their magic fell outside the blade's providence. She and her father had been blind and deaf to the warriors on Yamanouchi. She was currently under the sway of the potion at this very instant.

"No," he spoke aloud. "It is impossible."

The rhythmic flash of a light on the control panel broke his concentration.

How long had the message alert been on? It was most certainly from Sensei. How would he explain what had happened?

"'They are known only to their master.'" Saying these words aloud once more seemed to embolden Hirotaka. Or, at least, it gave him the momentary courage needed to listen to Sensei's message.

These words had been spoken by the kappas' original master some fifteen years earlier on the night Hirotaka had chosen The Path.

In fact, Hirotaka was only speaking the first part of the mantra. The final words of The Destroyer's statement— _and the dead_ -eluded his memory.

VIII.

Kim hastily maneuvered Justy's limp fingers underneath the door handle. Nothing happened.

"Come on, come on." She slid his fingertips from left to right along the underside of the handle. Nothing.

She removed his hand and then put it back under the handle. Nothing again.

Sitting on the curb with Justy's head cradled in her lap, Kim was attempting to unlock the Sloth's door with his fingerprints. He was unconscious but breathing regularly. She tried not to look at the fresh cut on his forehead.

Kim pressed her face against the Sloth's door and looked into the handle's small recess. Once she blocked out the streetlight's glare with her cupped hand, the blue lights from the one-touch security sensors became clearly visible. It _was_ operative.

_What if Wade forgot to add Justy's prints? What if Mariko forgot to remind Wade to add them?_

Then she would have to carry him to the nearest house. Surely, someone would help. If only she could make his presence known to them. If only anyone was even home.

"It's going to work this time," she muttered defiantly. She raised his hand and let the blue lights scan his right fingers once again. Nothing.

"Wait!" She was trying to open the driver's side door. Maybe the sensors for this door were only keyed to the prints of his _left hand_.

When his left fingers did, thankfully, unlock the door, Kim was so determined to get Justy into the Sloth as quickly as possible that she didn't even take the time to breathe a sigh of relief. Trying to lift him from the street, she failed to take into account the arc of the door as it gently, automatically, swept open. As a result, she nearly banged his head right into it.

Locking her arms beneath his shoulders and across his chest, Kim dragged Justy around the door as the wind began to pick up again. Arduously, she climbed inside and pulled him up and into the driver's seat. Crawling onto the passenger side, she leaned across his body and pulled his legs into the car. Placing her left hand over his, Kim struggled to pull the door shut against the building brace of the wind. Finally, the interior lights flashed off as the door closed and caught.

The darkness within the car seemed to only intensify the sense of isolation that the howling wind created as it buffeted the car's exterior. Justy shivered. Kim took Justy's thumb and pressed it against the ignition; the Sloth's engine churned. Manipulating his fingers, she switched the heat on full blast and pointed all the vents toward him. Only when his trembling ceased, and she had re-checked that his breathing was steady and even, did she finally permit herself a fistful of incriminating tears.

_Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_

When she had slipped outside, Justy's forehead had cracked against the curb. At the very least, it had knocked him unconscious for the second time that night and given him a nasty gash above his left eye. And at the worst, who knew? She had already been trying to keep him awake because of concerns about a possible head injury. Yet in the end, she, not the assassin and his phantom warriors, was responsible for sending Justy into the abyss.

"Pull it together, Possible."

Self-pity was not doing Justy any good. However, it was difficult to stay focused and positive. Apart from keeping him warm, Kim didn't know what else she could do. Although assistance would only be minutes away once Ron or Monique realized the kids were missing, how long would that take? And could Justy wait that long?

Taking Justy's right hand, Kim switched on the Sloth's hazard lights. Someone driving by might stop. Once they discovered him, they would certainly take Justy to the hospital. And she could always use Justy's hand to honk the horn, too. She had him turn on the wipers at max spread to clear the windshield and sat and waited.

After a few minutes, the snow stopped falling, but the wind was still going full force. Save for the small white cyclones blowing down the street, the town seemed deserted.

Glancing at Justy's wan features compelled Kim to grab his hand only to discover that she was already holding it. She couldn't quite remember when that had happened.

The crazy notion of driving him to the hospital herself took a few minutes to shake off. Although she figured she could manage the steering, she doubted she could manipulate his feet on the pedals with any real control. A car accident was so the last thing Justy needed.

Kim looked among the control panels for some feature that might help the situation. Unfortunately, most of the high-tech tools and gadgets Wade and the Tweebs had installed over the years required a degree of control equal to or even greater than what was required to drive the car. The risks they posed outweighed whatever help they promised.

The cut on Justy's head looked bad, but it had stopped bleeding at least. Giving his hand a squeeze, Kim leaned over and kissed his wound.

Although she performed the gesture without reflection, the act sparked multiple jumbled thoughts in her consciousness. For starters, she realized it was the first time she had kissed anyone other than Mariko since she'd been killed.

_Ron had been the last. Before that? Mom? No, she had been working that morning._

Following hard on these questions was the fact that since her death, Justy had been the only person other than Mariko to have kissed _her_. Or attempted to anyway.

Kim's memories adjusted to the darkness of her old bedroom, and the details from that night seven years earlier flooded her thoughts. The crowded bed, her sister reading _Snow White_ at its foot. The story had been the inspiration for the kiss. Because Mariko thought the story was true, and that a kiss could really bring someone back to life.

Mariko was gone, perhaps forever; her prince was the one in a deathlike sleep. And a kiss from a dead girl couldn't do anything.

"The phone!" Kim nearly smacked herself in the forehead with Justy's hand.

Even if he couldn't speak, the person on the other end of the connection would clearly be able to see that Justy was in trouble.

Kim pulled Justy's hand to the console, but as she tried to decide whom to call, she accidentally brushed his finger against its screen, and it began dialing the most recent number. Although Wade would have been the most expedient choice, the caller id flash for "Dad's Pick-me-up Truck" filled Kim with a tangible sense of relief.

However, her hopes steadily declined as the phone continued to ring. The dull tone of the rings only seemed to heighten the silent intervals between them.

"This had better be important, M," Bonnie's cross voice pierced the silence. "It's just me, and you know I hate using car phones."

"Doctor … Rockwaller?" Justy's asked sluggishly. He strained to open his eyes and tried to lift his head but quickly let it fall back against the headrest.

"Justy?!" Bonnie's sternness evaporated. Her face grew large on the screen as she tried to look the injured boy over through the small screen. "Oh my God! What happened? Where's Mariko?"

"They … they took her," he managed. "I couldn't-"

"What? Who?" Bonnie shook her head. "Never mind. Tell me where you are." Bonnie's voice had grown firm, controlled. "Justy, where?"

"The, the park."

"That's twenty minutes across town," Bonnie muttered. "Just hang on," she nodded emphatically to Justy. "I'll be there in five," she announced and promptly hung up.

During the ninety seconds or so that the call lasted, Kim had felt strangely absent. It was almost as if she had been watching Justy and Bonnie's conversation unfold from a great distance or even on television. She was definitely relieved with the direction the call had taken—who better to answer the phone but a doctor-but Kim also felt a sense of deep isolation that she hadn't been aware of prior to the call. She wondered if this feeling might indicate she would be "blacking out" in the next few moments. She spent the next minute in anxious abeyance, fearfully wondering what she might discover when she did return.

"Thank you."

Justy's exhausted voice brought Kim back to the moment. He sounded so out of it to her. With his injuries, it was little wonder that he would think the conversation with Bonnie was still going on. She just hoped his discombobulation didn't portent any serious damage.

_Hurry, Bonnie, hurry._

"Thank you," he repeated in the same weak, listless tone. "I never could have made that call."

At the instant Kim realized Justy was actually addressing her, he gave her fingers, which were still clutching his right hand, a firm squeeze.

He was looking, if not seeing, in her direction, and his expression came as close to approaching serenity or contentment as anyone could have hoped for under the circumstances.

She leaned across him and gently kissed his forehead again. It was meant to bring him comfort and perhaps a little strength as he waited for his rescue. But, for an instant, Kim felt as if she were back in her parent's kitchen on the morning of her last day and was comforted, too.

The headlights of Ron's truck illuminated the whole of the Sloth's windshield in a blinding glare. Bonnie had been as good as her word.

IX.

Sensei's watery eyes continued staring into the dead screen several minutes after the void had swallowed Hirotaka's image.

"Why did you not complete the mission?"

Sensei had asked this question some minutes earlier, but the only response the ninja had managed was a pitiable bow. He asked it again of the empty screen. The response this time, although less indolent, was no more satisfying. He closed the v-phone and placed it roughly on the floor.

By the ninja's own admission, Mariko-chan had not seen him. Once she was under the NotI's spell, he could have killed the boy without complication.

Additional elaborations would have been needed, true, and the Kappa Warriors would, perhaps, need to be kept out of Mariko-chan's presence for the foreseeable future.

_Still the mission would have been complete._

Evidence could just as easily be shifted against the traitor Fukushima whether the girl witnessed her consort's murder first-hand or woke up to discover his corpse.

_The task is now more difficult. The heir of the Chosen One will not be easily swayed back onto the Honor Path with an unbroken heart._

Sensei's disappointment in Hirotaka aside, what truly bothered him was the explanation the ninja had given. Upon hearing it, the old man had felt as if he was sinking through the floor. Although brief, the sensation was overwhelming and its resonances clouded the remainder of the call and were still being felt.

Sensei was well acquainted with shock, and this was not it. There was a certainty with shock, a solidity upon which one could rest his spoiled ambitions and hang his remorse. Shock was fact, not mystery.

Some mysteries were easily explained. For a period of some weeks the previous year, Sensei had kept discovering his v-phone lying in odd places in the dwelling, spots he knew he had never left the device. He soon realized that Rina-chan had been sneaking inside when he was gone and rifling through his possessions. In fact, he had walked in on the girl as she was hiding the phone within a stack of dirty bowls. He had come inches from snatching the traitor up by her hair when she inexplicably evaded his grasp and ran from the dwelling.

However, the mystery Sensei now confronted was different, porous. Its only definitive trait was its corrosive nature, the certainty that more, much more would be taken before any firm ground could be regained. What made the mystery unendurable, however, was how it harkened back to the previous time Hirotaka had failed him.

A clouded moment of falling shadows and blue light in a pagoda, a moment that heralded a decade of loss.

The old man stood motionless, considering the few pathways left open to him. One by one they blinked out like flames in a vast cavern until only one remained lit, the one he least wanted to travel down. With the frayed cuffs of his robe, he wiped his eyes clear and looked toward the kusarigama displayed upon the wall. He sighed.

As experience had borne out, a broken heart was the ideal motivator. The only emotion that challenged it for prominence and, on some occasions, superseded it was love of family. Familial passion, after all, had been the cause of the Chosen One's revolt. Therefore, there was a chance that this same door could swing the other way to bring his daughter back into the fold.

Killing Stoppable-san was not a viable option. Not for the least reason that Sensei doubted Hirotaka could accomplish such a mission. And death, perhaps, wouldn't be necessary.

 _At least not a_ new _death._

Of the few items that Sensei insisted Hirotaka retrieve from his personal chambers at Yamanouchi, the kusarigma had been the most vital. The ninja must have interpreted the weapon's value, the old man reasoned, to be merely sentimental in nature. The sheer length of the sickle-headed staff-two meters, a full meter longer than a traditional kusarigama—made it rather impractical for someone of Sensei's stature to wield. However, sentiment did not play any role in its inherent value.

Sensei clapped his palms together sharply, but nothing happened. He repeated the motion, and this time the dwelling's artificial lighting dimmed accordingly. Midday sunlight from the doorway jumbled shadows about his person, and he approached the low table positioned directly under the kusarigama.

As he lit the candles standing on opposite sides of the table, Sensei reflected with some sadness on the length of time that had passed since he had last performed these gestures. However, this wistfulness was quickly dispersed when he recalled that the ceremony had last been observed for Rina-chan's benefit.

Hirotaka had informed him that the girl had been adopted by an American family and had recently opened up her own dojo. In Middleton. The same town that Fukushima, the other great traitor, was now pursuing a career in law.

Their shadows, recognizable even when his back was turned, suddenly appeared in his doorway, but he did not deign to turn and face their mocking expressions. These betrayers would soon face justice.

Although he had been prepared for the kusarigama's extreme weight, it still proved cumbersome as he lifted it from its supports. So much so that its sickle nearly knocked over one of the candlesticks before he could bring it safely to the table's surface. After a minute to regain his breath, Sensei unscrewed the weighted cap at the staff's base and placed it on the table. Gingerly, he inserted his fingers into the hollowed center of the cylinder and carefully extracted the tightly wound scrolls hidden within. With intense concentration, he unrolled the brittle and discolored documents and spread them across the floor.

The duty of transcribing the registry onto new scrolls and burning the old was a practice Sensei had neglected during the years of exile. Since the Yamanouchi he had known had ceased to exist, the tradition seemed pointless. The scrolls had ceased to be living documents; there were no more names to add. Yellowing with age became their sole purpose.

As he smoothed the top leaf flat with his hand, his eyes disdainfully tripped over the names near the bottom—the names of initiates like Rina-chan who had betrayed their sense of Honor. Although most had not abandoned the school like she, they had all abandoned _him_ and, hence, Honor by continuing their education at the feet of the usurper Yamamoto-san.

Sensei's mood improved as his eyes scanned the honorable names closer to the top of the sheet. The old man grew wistful as he traced his finger across the scroll, following the history of favorite pupils. Near the far edge of the sheet were listed the dates of their Initiations. It went without saying that these were _successful_ Initiations. Those students who failed were not listed—their names as forgotten as their unmarked graves. From left to right, the scroll cataloged their progress: milestones in their formative training, their finals, missions completed, and all the honorable sacrifices they contributed in the lamentably few years most of his prodigies had lived.

What Sensei had decided to do was unprecedented, and parts of him were still fighting strongly against it.

"Why did you not complete the mission?" he bitterly asked the v-phone across the floor. The same insufferable bow was his answer.

To impart _any_ of the information inscribed in the registry to another living soul, even a successor, was strictly forbidden. Tradition allowed masters only to reveal the fact of the scrolls' existence and their secret location to the chosen acolyte—preferably just prior to the master's death.

Yet, he was preparing to show these very sheets to an individual who was not presently even a ninja.

Yet, if he did not take such a drastic step, there could be no successor. Only the intercession of the Lotus Blade could reclaim Yamanouchi now. Otherwise, Honor and the true traditions of the school would not survive his death.

The more Sensei thought on it, the less the reservations claimed him, and the more confident he became that the remaining path was the correct one.

There was a simplicity and elegance to the plan. Sensei found it especially fitting because it permitted Yori, from beyond the grave, a chance to serve Honor one more time.

Once Mariko-chan saw the registry, the girl's love and pride for her mother **would** prove sufficient to right her destiny.

_Mariko-chan could not spurn such a triumph-filled legacy._

As he raised yet another chocolate to his lips and rolled its wrapper into yet another tight ball, Sensei experienced, however briefly, a moment of serenity.

_The girl will trace her own destiny in the footsteps of her mother._

He carelessly dropped it. The glittering mote fell through the darkening air until it reached the earth where, compelled by both gravity and the slant to the floor's igneous surface, it joined its fellows in a dingy heap of refuse in the corner.

_The honored footsteps of the kunoichi who had defeated Kim Possible._

* * *

_To be continued  
_

Note: The tone of the Kim/Justy scenes was greatly influenced by the song "By Your Side" by Beechwood Sparks.


	33. Thirty

I.

Mariko Stoppable was in a hell. Alone. And she had no idea.

Her bass-like snores and other superficial signs notwithstanding, hers was no ordinary sleep. In fact, her mental and physical state hovered somewhere between comatose and oblivion.

The Destroyer's toxin effectively strangled the girl's senses. They could relay nothing to her about the outside world or the danger in which she was being placed. Her body, in fact, no longer existed for her. And her identity that tangle of feelings, perceptions, and memory lay isolated within the silent center of her stilled consciousness. While under the NotI's influence, "Mariko" was as infinitesimal and irretrievable as a pebble on the dark floor of the sea.

Release was at the whim of her captor; moreover, resurfacing from such depths was not without its own dangers. The majority of the NotI's victims suffered unpleasant side effects, especially if kept under its disembodying sway for more than a few hours. Partial or full amnesia, significant loss of motor skills, dementia, and, on occasion, the onset of full madness had all been observed. Whether these effects proved permanent or merely temporary was impossible to determine since the toxin's wielders typically killed their subjects.

The distinct probability that the Chosen One's heir might be insane at the time she was finally presented to Sensei did not occur to Hirotaka until the moment he began lowering her body into the hole. Although this thought gave him pause, the recent image of Sensei on the jet's video feed- hysterical, demented, and weeping, outweighed any concerns this scenario might have normally given him.

His primary goal had shifted from delivering the girl to his master to simply protecting Sensei from the Chosen One's wrath. Once that had been achieved, ideally with Stoppable-san's death, then any obstacles to Sensei's dreams of reclaiming the girl's loyalty and the Lotus Blade could be given due consideration.

Although the hell's floor was obscured by steam and shadow, Hirotaka's preliminary scans indicated that it was at least two hundred meters beneath the surface. Furthermore, the plumes of ashen cloud that curled from its edges were composed of harmless water vapor, mostly. Now that he was certain the girl's body contained a homing device, the ninja was determined to use the situation to his advantage.

He lowered her bound form to a depth of only four meters. Any tracking signal would still be discernible so close to the surface, yet her person would remain invisible to the eye. As a result, Hirotaka's enemies would be forced to confront him in the open to recover her.

After securing the rope to a horn of stone along the edge of the crevice, Hirotaka gazed at the mark on the back of his hand. Being in the open and defenseless was his most favored position. No opponent had ever survived when he had assumed the posture. The same would be true today.

His reverie was broken by the girl's snoring reverberating beneath his feet. He regretted not gagging her, but refrained from hoisting her back to the surface. It made no fundamental difference. In the unlikely event that Stoppable-san got close enough to hear his daughter's snores, Hirotaka would simply cut the rope.

II.

Kim rubbed at her eyes angrily. Every time she thought she had regained control, dark patches would cloud the corners of her vision, the shadows of tears about to fall.

_This is ridiculous! Get it together, Possible!_

The truth was that she had been more or less crying continuously since Bonnie rescued Justy. As she "oversaw" the doctor guide the boy into the cab of Ron's truck. As she clung desperately to the railings in the vehicle's bed as it barreled and slid through the untreated streets to the hospital. As she maneuvered her way through swinging doors and around keen-producing patients and staff to get into the emergency room where his wounds were being treated.

Watching Bonnie and another young doctor perform triage on her friend had given her a few moments of respite. Although Kim could do little to help, good was being done. It preoccupied her mind to watch it, and the tears stopped. And even though he was heavily medicated at the time and probably could not feel it, she reached out and held his wrist for as long as she was able. That was good, too.

But when Monique and Felix arrived, she reflexively turned away, her vision blurring before she even heard them speak. She was so focused on controlling herself that Kim didn't realize that everyone had left until sometime later when she noticed the lights in the room were off. Fortunately, the gap in the curtain that separated the room from the ER corridor was wide enough for her to squeeze through.

Kim was immediately lost. Although she had practically grown up at Middleton Memorial, she couldn't orient herself. Like a child abandoned in a crowded public place, she began searching for a familiar face that might signal a way out or a way home. Before too long Kim realized that the person she was subconsciously searching for was her mother.

_But she barely works here anymore and hasn't worked in the ER since I was little._

An elevator opened on her right, but she dismissed it. Such enclosed places were to be avoided at all costs in Kim's second life. Besides, she knew enough that she was on the ground floor, and the car was headed down.

 _When_ was _the last time I was here?_

As that question hung in the air, she spotted the doctor who had assisted Bonnie with Justy. She darted after the woman in hopes of following her to Justy's room. Down another corridor and through two sets of automatic double doors, the woman guided Kim instead to the ER's expansive waiting room.

And Ron.

Kim caught sight of him just as he was walking out the revolving entrance into the night. Fortunately, the automatic door continuously rotated; however, she had to wait for an elderly couple with a very small child to pass through before she could follow after him. She finally made it through, skirted past the family, and ran to the parking lot. Fear fluttered within her chest as she discovered it deserted, save for rows of snow-draped cars.

Then she noticed four figures standing under a shadowed clutch of trees on the edge of the lot. Before she had taken two steps toward the group, she recognized the profiles of Ron, her brothers, and Wade.

"What?!" The edge in Ron's voice was harsh, dangerous. It awoke cold memories from Yamanouchi.

"I know, Ron, I know," Wade said, his hands upraised. Although he and Ron had been the same height for years, Wade's posture and demeanor made him seem closer in stature to his pre-teen self.

"He's been in custody for seven years!" Ron protested.

"They thought he was," Wade replied.

"Great! GJ _thought_!" Ron shook his head. "That should have shot up a big red flag."

"No kidding," Jim agreed.

Tim elbowed his brother. "You're not helping, dude."

"Hirotaka was the only person to enter the dojo," Wade explained. "With the extensive burns from the explosion, they could only assume it was him. He had no fingerprints. They couldn't even use dental records because-"

"Because he didn't have any," Ron interrupted. "Mountain-raised ninjas don't go to the dentist."

Wade nodded. "But he also didn't have any teeth left."

"What about DNA?"

Wade shook his head.

"What? They never tested it?" Ron sputtered. "What is this, the _twentieth_ century?"

"Word," Tim said. Now it was Jim's turn to elbow him.

"It wasn't deemed necessary," Wade explained, "by the agent who took him into custody."

"Who was this idiot-?" Jim asked before the obvious dawned on him.

"Will Du." Everyone, including Kim, spat the officious agent's name into the bitter cold. Everyone, that is, except Ron. He stared straight ahead, silent and shivering.

He wasn't wearing a jacket, but Kim knew he wasn't shaking because he was cold. Standing behind him, she could only gauge the extent of Ron's emotions by the reactions of her brothers and Wade. Part of her wanted to look into his eyes; the rest of her was frightened of what she might see there.

"Just calm down, Ron," Wade said.

Ron didn't respond. But, for an instant, Wade and Jim's faces seemed to carry a faint blue glow.

_Oh, no._

"We are getting her back, Ron." Wade stated firmly. "I've got an excellent fix on her."

"Where?" Ron asked in a calm voice that did nothing to put Kim at ease.

"Japan. Not Yamanouchi. Somewhere further north."

"Call _Fukushima_." Ron said.

" _Fukushima_ _?_ "

"He knows all of Yamanouchi's secrets. He may know some of Hirotaka's hangouts."

Jim and Tim, who had been tensely watching Ron, elbowed each other.

"Ow!" They said in unison.

"Fine," Jim said rubbing his elbow, "I'm on it."

"Wade?" Ron asked as Jim tried to reach Fukishima on his Kimmunicator.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"You said you had a good fix on Mariko."

"Yes," Wade nodded confidently. "An excellent one."

"How are you doing that?"

Kim's heart dropped. _No, Ron._

"Uh …" Wade hesitated.

"Do you have my daughter … _chipped_ … or something?"

_Please, Ron, don't make a big deal out of this now._

"Ron," Wade said firmly, "there will be plenty of time for you to go mystical monkey on me. But let's do that _after_ we get Mariko back. Okay?" For the first time, Kim thought Wade looked his actual height.

"Yeah," Ron said, the ice in his voice and posture suddenly gone. "You're right."

_Nice work, Wade._

"What do you need?" Fukishima asked from the Kimmunicator's screen. His voice was thick with the pull of interrupted sleep.

"We need dirt on Sensei," Jim said. "Anything you got. Soil to the north of Yamanouchi would be especially appreciated."

"Ok. Great." Fukishima's voice was crisp, awake.

"You okay with doing this?" Ron called out.

"Ron, betraying Sensei is like riding a bike," Fukishima replied, the smile in his voice very evident. "You never forget how, and it's always a pleasure."

The laughter this comment produced was general, good-natured and hollow.

Something about the entire scene was _off_ , and that scared Kim. Scared her a lot.

Standing in the shadows amid snowflakes that were quickly turning to pellets of ice and surrounded by the forced levity of the most important men in her lives, Kim felt utterly alone and helpless. She was overcome with the illogical compulsion to sprint back to the hospital. To find _someone._ Bonnie, Mon, or even her mother, and then drag them down to the parking lot, so they could…

_Do what, exactly?_

Even if any of that was possible, and none of it was, what would be the point? The people who could do the most good for Mariko were already standing right there. And she could hear Fukushima rattling off about the secrets from the cave beneath Yamanouchi. No doubt, he would willingly provide them with all the information they needed. Information about anything he had witnessed during his many years under Sensei's tutelage. And, undoubtedly, he had witnessed a great deal more than Kim had.

 _Or maybe not. Maybe there are some secrets he can't reveal because he never_ witnessed _them- because they were invisible._

Kim knew what she had to do. Quickly, she had to somehow get a message to Ron and the others. A warning about the samurians. Otherwise, they might be walking into a deadly trap. A trap, she now realized, that may have been the ultimate goal for kidnapping Mariko in the first place.

But, of course, her sole conduit to the living world, the only person capable of relaying such a warning, was thousands of miles away.

As her eyes skirted over the glow from the ER's entrance a few hundred yards away, she remembered.

_Of course!_

Her heart throbbing behind her eyes, Kim raced toward the hospital as fast as the elements would permit her.

III.

Given the formative and layered role it had played in her life, Mariko had surprisingly never given much thought to death. So now that she was attempting to take stock of the interminable black vastness that enveloped her, the possibility that she was dead didn't spring to mind, either.

And she was certainly not frightened by the situation. She approached it like a dream. Not that she necessarily assumed she was dreaming. More accurately, she treated the sitch in the same manner she handled most of her dreams: she let it ride.

And for a considerable time it proved an extremely uninteresting ride. Yet the prolonged state of nothingness was anything but dull. Mariko was keenly interested to see how long the nothing would last. How could such a drawn-out monotonous build-up _not_ lead into something overtly badical?

Prophetically enough, it was just after this notion occurred to her that a small crease appeared in the void. At the far end of her field of vision, a blurry "something" appeared. A smudge of ash against the otherwise faultless black canopy of her universe. As she and it drew closer to each other, the smudge grew smaller rather than larger. Smaller and more distinct.

At the point this "something" became recognizable to Mariko, it suddenly became an array of "somethings." She could not blink because she didn't have eyes, but in the amount of time it would have taken her to blink, the array became a cluster. In the following instant, the cluster became a constellation. And this constellation begat further constellations.

The thought that these notes were going to twirl all about her like exploding ribbons struck her. And, within an instant, this is exactly what they did.

Of course, they weren't musical notes at all. But Mariko had always insisted that letters of the Hebrew alphabet looked like musical notes. Singing the trop during her bat mitzvah had reinforced this belief, but it actually began when she was six. Her Bubbe had inexplicably placed one of her graded papers from Hebrew school beside a sheet of music on the stand of the Stoppables' piano.

Entwined within strings of this musical alphabet, Mariko became aware of a familiar music. The melody and rhythm seemed to blend with her consciousness, yet the song's name lay just beyond the reach of her memory. Of course, she did not literally hear anything because she no longer had ears. Yet she was captivated by the strings nonetheless.

Although not liberating, the imagined music did act as a buffer, a protective level of illusion that successfully insulated the girl from the encroaching insanitary effects of the NotI.

For the time being.

IV.

Kim couldn't have timed it better.

She reached the ER's rotating doorway at the precise point in its cycle when she could charge straight through to the lobby. Seeing that the lone nurse at Reception was rising from his seat, she quickly edged around the mother and son in line for triage, leapt over the reception desk, and landed on the chair the nurse had just vacated. Perched on her knees, she began scanning the video screens built into the desk's surface in hope of finding anything that would tell her where Justy had been moved. She found his name and room number within seconds.

_Room 821B._

Provided the hospital hadn't completely revised its room-numbering scheme since Kim's days as a "candy striper," Justy was now on the eighth floor, the top floor. And that meant he was not considered in critical condition.

_Spankin'. Now to get up there._

Kim sprang from the chair and landed close to the archway that led to the main part of the hospital. Ignoring the keening from the people that happened to cross her path, she sped around corners until she reached the stairwell's door. Where she stopped. And waited for it to open.

She had passed a pair of elevators around the last corner, but she hadn't considered them when she ran past them for the same reason she was fighting against considering them an option now. They were certain traps.

The simple, harsh fundamentals of her existence strictly prohibited her from entering an elevator. Like a closet, a bathroom, a car, or any other tiny closed-off space, an elevator was only one misstep away from becoming a prison. Actually, an elevator was only a _half_ -misstep away—unlike a closet or a bathroom, its doors shut automatically.

 _And_ open _automatically._

Kim shook this tempting rationalization away and returned her focus on the stairwell's door. It was so much the better choice. Once on the stairs, she could expect an easy and virtually unimpeded route to the top floor. The only drawback to the stairwell was waiting for someone to open the door once she reached the eighth floor.

_And, of course, for someone to open this door._

Kim tried to steady her resolve with the memory of what her mother had once told her when she and Ron had been volunteering at the hospital. Her mother had maintained that many nurses and doctors took the stairs rather than ride the elevators. When going either a floor up or down, the stairs were inevitably quicker. Besides, her mother had gone on to say, it was good exercise. Then Kim remembered that her mother had made these comments immediately after Ron had been rather loudly complaining about how "sloth-like" the elevators were. Her optimism was somewhat dashed when recalled that the only other person she had in the stairwells over that long weekend had been a winded Ron.

_Still, elevator: so not going to happen._

As the minutes piled onto one another, Kim tried to ignore the chimes from the elevators' doors that were calling out to her at irritatingly regular intervals. She reminded herself that although time was a factor, she really _didn't_ need to get to Justy posthaste. Even if Ron and the others left Middleton before she could get into Justy's room, it wasn't the end of the world. As long as one of them had a Kimmunicator, things would work out.

She heard steps echoing in the stairwell. But the person must have exited on an upper floor because no one appeared.

_So long as I get to him before they get to Japan._

After a few minutes, she found that she was wincing every time she noticed the elevators' chime.

_Plenty of time, Possible._

Then she caught herself wincing even when she didn't hear the chimes but only anticipated them.

_Unless I black out._

Kim's heart was in her throat moments later as she leaned her back against the rear wall of the empty elevator. Hugging her arms to her chest did nothing to calm her as she watched the doors slowly close.

_This is so, so stupid._

Almost immediately, the elevator began to rise. It stopped on four, and an orderly with a bulging linen basket got on. He pressed the "G" button and they returned to the first floor. Although she hadn't made any progress, this short trip did ease Kim's initial trepidation somewhat.

A nurse she recognized from the ER earlier got on just as the orderly left. He selected the sixth floor. When the doors opened Kim fought the impulse to follow him. Although only be two floors beneath Justy, she would be from a practical sense, no nearer to him than when she had been on the first floor. She still needed the same number of happy accidents to get into his room. One, someone had to open the door for the stairwell on the sixth floor. Two, someone had to open the door for the stairwell on the eighth floor. And, three, someone had to open the door to room 821B. If she could patiently ride the elevator until someone selected the top floor, only one happy accident needed to occur.

After a few anxious moments, the empty elevator began to descend. It came to a stop on the fifth floor. However, when the doors opened, there was no one standing in the corridor. It was as if someone had pressed the button and then left before the elevator could arrive.

_Knowing my luck, the person changed his mind and took the stairs._

Glancing at the directory posted on the wall opposite the open doors, Kim read that the fifth floor was the maternity floor. The same floor where she and Ron had been born.

_No, wait, Ron wasn't born here. He didn't make it._

The irony of this thought hit Kim a second later. Since Barbara had actually delivered Ron in the elevator before she could reach Maternity, it was quite possible that Ron had been born "here" as in the elevator that she had been standing in for the past few minutes.

Just as the doors were beginning to close, an orderly with an empty gurney brusquely entered, forcing Kim into a corner.

Long ago she had learn to forgive people who nearly collided with her. They didn't know she existed, so why should they be blamed? Still, Kim found herself harboring ill feelings for the guy. Maybe it was because he had disrupted her reverie, maybe it was because of his exceedingly careless demeanor, or maybe it was because he selected the ground floor.

Her feelings didn't improve when they arrived at the first floor, and he left the gurney behind when he got off. The doors closed. This was potentially a serious problem. Although the gurney didn't block her in, what were the chances that a person would decide to ride an elevator that was cramped with an unoccupied gurney? Especially, if the next passenger was visitor, wouldn't they naturally opt for an empty elevator? Kim decided that she would have to get on the other car as soon as she got the chance.

The elevator started to move once more. Kim was momentarily confused as to why she was descending until she remembered there was a basement.

She had never been to the basement. She and Ron had never needed to when they volunteered on weekends, and she was certain her mother had never extended them the offer for a tour on that floor. The reason being, of course, the only department housed in the basement was the morgue.

When the elevator reached the bottom, it made a soft groaning noise. It was a noise that made Kim feel immediately anxious.

As she tensely waited for the doors to open, Kim realized that she _had_ been to the basement once before. In fact, she had been there on her most recent "visit." And the reason she hadn't remembered was because it had taken place on the morning of her death.

The lights flickered off, and Kim was swallowed by darkness.

V.

"She's stopped."

"Excuse me?"

"Ease down, Ron. It only means her signal's stationary."

"I know, I know that. Sorry, Wade."

"Hey, Ron. Where did Fukushima say Sensei had his weekend getaway again?"

"Mt. Tate."

"I'll give you one guess where Mariko is."

"How long till we get there, Tim?"

"Switching to hypersonic now-be there in twenty minutes, tops."

VI.

As he sat lotus-style before the only snoring hole on Mt. Tateyama, Hirotaka was focused upon two things: the red glow created by the sun against his eyelids and that the Chosen One was coming.

Waiting was only a trick of counting one's heartbeats. And the counting was easy to master once one learned to control the beating of one's heart. Waiting had not presented any problems for Hirotaka for a very, very long time.

Still, he anticipated this wait would be brief. Especially if the Chosen One did not come alone.

As for these potential others, they presented the same challenge for the Kappa Warriors as the Chosen One.

_None._

VII.

Kim couldn't tell whether her eyes were opened or closed. Apart from rare instances on missions in her first life (the caves in the Kimberley Provence of Australia came to mind), Kim had never found herself in a place so utterly dark. For a clutch of seconds, she feared that her second life had finally reached its end.

Fortunately, before this fear could gain ground, the elevator's cold metal railing against her elbow confirmed that she was, in fact, still alive. And, almost as important, it proved she was still in the same place-nine floors below where she needed to be.

Time was a trickier sitch. In such complete darkness, it was difficult to determine the passage of time. By counting her breaths, Kim was able to approximate how long she had been in the dark. Once she realized that she had only been trapped for a handful of minutes, Kim's natural practicality began to subdue her feelings of helplessness.

Still, there was very little she could do but wait. If this had happened in her previous life, she would have already been scaling the elevator shaft, with her hands alone if her grappling dryer wasn't available.

Then she felt the elevator move. Although there were no accompanying mechanical groans and the lights remained off, Kim discerned a feeling of ascent in the unchanging darkness. A blade of light outlined the top edge of the elevator's doors. It light quickly flowed down the narrow crease between the doors, and the elevator came to an abrupt stop. Following this jolt, the doors opened with a flood of light that, ironically for Kim, blinded her.

Considering the rapidity of these disorienting, if positive, developments, it was little wonder that her mother's exasperated sigh nearly made the still-blind Kim lose her balance.

"Mom!"

Dr. Anne Possible brushed the empty gurney to the corner of the elevator opposite her daughter, causing the motion-sensitive lights to flicker on at the same instant Kim's blurry vision returned to normal.

"Mom!" Kim cried again, this time with an edge of mild annoyance at being blinded once more. Trying to focus on her mother through the blurred flashes of color before her eyes, she fumbled forward with her arms out stretched. She halted once the keening began and stood there, anchored to the edge of her mother's boundary, until her sight returned.

Kim couldn't recall ever seeing her mother at the hospital when she was not wearing her white physician's coat. Of course, when Kim visited the maternity ward after her brothers were born, she certainly couldn't have been wearing it. This wayward train of thought ceased the instant Kim met her mother's gaze.

Anne Possible's pale blue eyes were staring directly into hers.

Only twice had Kim consciously engaged her mother in a staring duel. Both had been over silly, childish things—shaving her legs at twelve to avoid Bonnie's scorn, staying out past curfew at sixteen (with a boy other than Ron). Both times she had lost. The continued pierce of the keening drove off any fantasy Kim might have entertained that this was their third duel and that her mother could see her.

Kim glanced at the display next to the elevator's door. As she had hoped, her mother had selected the eighth floor.

_Hold on, guys, I'm coming._

When Kim looked back, her mother's eyes were closed. But when they opened a few seconds later, Kim immediately edged away until her back touched the railing and then stared at the floor. Points of brittleness in those blue eyes awoke a long-standing guilt Kim had never resolved.

She felt ashamed for causing her loved ones so much pain by being killed. It was the inverse of survivor's guilt, but just as insurmountable. It was an absurd thing to feel guilty about, but knowing that fact did absolutely nothing to prevent Kim from feeling it.

Kim had never given too much thought to how many other people might be in her situation, living second lives within precisely the same maddening limitations. And the simple reason was that when she considered anyone else going through the same type of pain, she tried desperately to think of something else.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. From Kim's current position against the railing, her mother's unbroken stare was directed just above her heart.

Anne Possible sighed and turned toward the doors. Kim hurried around her mother's boundary and, noting the signs on the wall opposite the elevator, ran to the left in search of room 821B.

Kim's heart leapt when realized that the room's door was ajar. As she squeezed around the doorknob, she could overhear her mother patiently explaining at the nurse's station that since she was a hospital employee visiting hours did not apply to her.

The lights were off in the room, but Kim could see by the glow of the television screen. The flashing images made the room's shadows jump violently.

Kim hurriedly waded through the jagged darkness. There were two beds. One contained an older man who was snoring loudly and the other held Justy's silent form. When she reached his bedside, Kim lightly touched Justy's right hand and then attempted to ease the tremors evident on his forehead. Yet, it soon became clear that he had been sedated and her gestures went unfelt.

She looked around the room for the tools she needed. A touchscreen was clipped to the bed's footboard, but that was obviously out of reach. Then Kim noticed a small tablet laying at the edge of the rollaway tray next to Justy's bed.

_That could work._

Kim paced around the bed anxiously. Could she remember enough of what she had witnessed about Mariko's tablet? Gingerly, she lifted Justy's right hand and pulled it over to the device. The position was awkward; his fingers barely reached the screen's bottom half. If the table was closer to the bed or if Justy was closer to the bed's edge, it might work. Otherwise, she would have to twist the boy's arm in an extremely uncomfortable angle.

Kim was semi-successfully keeping her anxiety at bay. "Let's see." There weren't any IV tubes or monitoring wires attached to him, that she could see anyway. "This might not be too bad."

Taking his left wrist in one hand and grabbing his left shoulder with the other, Kim slowly began pulling him over. Once he was on his side, she balanced his weight against her shoulder and extended his arm until his hand reached the device's screen. It sprang into light the instant his fingertips made contact. There was no prompt for a lock code—it was active.

_Spankin'._

She hastily guided his hand to the icon for a messaging program she recognized. Suddenly, the ceiling over Justy's bed was arrayed with a kaleidoscope of brightly-exploding, chirping cartoon characters. His fingertip had brushed over an icon for some kind of game. Kim shut the program down after a few frantic seconds and listened anxiously until the snores from the other patient broke the subsequent silence.

_So don't do that again, Possible._

She quickly carefully extended Justy's index finger and then gently lowered it over the correct icon. The program opened quickly, but Kim couldn't recall what she needed to do to bring up the keyboard. Whenever Mariko had used the program, Kim had instinctively looked away to give the girl her privacy.

"I'll just be in and out," Ann Possible's annoyed voice spoke from the hallway.

Kim froze. Her mom was just outside the door. What if she walked in before Kim could finish? What if Ann Possible found Justy-heavily-sedated, practically comatose, texting? The obvious answer flashed in an instant.

"Who cares?!" Kim cried aloud. _This needs to get done._

Justy's finger grazed the address field, and a small virtual keypad appeared at the base of the screen. As deftly as she could, Kim managed to get Ron's v-phone number entered into the "To" space. She touched the subject line and quickly typed out **wRrning**. She was scanning for the backspace or delete option when the her mother entered the room.

"Justy?"

_Okay, okay, no time, no time._

Kim couldn't think of what to say. How could she explain the samurians and their hideously complex natures in only a few words and then send the message to Ron before her mom reached the bed? Although she didn't care if her mother saw what was happening, Kim knew that almost any action her mother took would bring Kim's texting attempt to a halt.

Then she recalled the name Sensei had given the creatures. _Kappa warriors._ If anyone alive could research and confirm the existence of a being that no one in recorded history had ever seen by its obscure never-uttered name, that person was Wade Load.

Quickly and surely, Kim began typing. Her mother reached the edge of the bed, she gently touched Justy on his raised shoulder, and Kim vanished.

Justy's hand immediately dropped to the floor, knocking the device off the table. It bounced off the side of the bed and landed face up on the floor. For a few seconds, the cracked screen illuminated the letters **kap,** went black, and died.

* * *

_to be continued ..._


	34. Thirty-one

I.

"This show has gone on for far too long."

Not that Mariko wasn't enjoying herself. She couldn't remember a better time. The concert had been great. Perfect, even. But, ultimately, that was what was bothering her.

Each number topped the last, but not in any way that diminished the previous song. The concert was all highlights; there weren't _any_ lows. Heck, there weren't any "so-so" points. And when had any concert given by anybody lived up to that? But then she couldn't exactly recall whose concert it was, either.

She tried to remedy the mystery by looking intently at the figures jamming on stage. Unfortunately, the free-floating silhouettes of patrons in the rows ahead of her obscured everything from view except the large speakers and fleeting glimpses of instruments. Even her efforts to focus on the melody proved futile because, apparently, several songs were being playing at once. And yet, this didn't strike her as odd. However, the fact that it didn't strike her as odd _did_ _s_ trike her as crazy.

_I'm going insane. To a good soundtrack, but still._

She looked skyward to where a concert hall's ceiling or a canopy of summer evening stars should have been. Instead, she encountered an immense black mass hovering over everything like a shroud.

_Fantastic._

As she mentally groused this last word, Mariko discovered that more than anything else about her current sitch what disturbed her most was its suffocating sense of loneliness. It was like the isolation one felt in large crowds but … deeper. Deeper because it was entwined with a keen sense of absence. She knew she had come to the concert, or at least to this place that was masquerading as one, _with_ somebody.

And the problem wasn't so much that _she_ was alone; Mariko could hang with that. It was the knowledge that _the other person_ was alone that bothered her.

Well, that, and the fact that she couldn't remember who the other person might be.

As epically great and as epically long-lasting as this concert was, she certainly should have remembered who she came with-if nothing else, so they could rendezvous in the parking lot for the ride home. She tried to remember if she had brought the Sloth, but could recall nothing of the ride over. Absently, she realized that she had no memory of anything happening immediately before the concert. She decided to goof on the side of caution and assume that she had brought the Sloth. It was, after all, entirely possible that the other person didn't drive.

 _Or_ couldn't _drive._

Once this thought crystallized, Mariko knew why it was so important to find the missing person.

Mariko charged through the crowd, yelling desperately. As she navigated the ever-changing forest of shadows, her voice grew weak but she continued to cry out. Within what seemed to be seconds, the weakness became a painful soreness in her throat, but she kept calling. The soreness spread to her shoulders and quickly trickled into her midsection. The pain curled within her body in spasms. Mariko imagined the sensation like coils of rope being unbearably pulled taunt … and then being set on fire.

And either the music had stopped or it was drowned out by the shrieks that had grown beyond Mariko's control. She could no longer distinguish between shadows of the crowd and the darkness of the smothering black 'canopy.' The world itself seemed to be encompassed by only a shrill, painful keening and the intense soreness that now radiated through her body.

In the agonizing instant that the world was finally torn away, Mariko understood the keening was not a single uninterrupted cry but was made up of a single word being screamed over and over in impossibly rapid succession.

The word was "mother."

And, what's more, the cry was not emanating _from_ her.

She was being addressed.

II.

"Anyone else down there with him?"

"Just Mariko. No one else within at least a five-mile radius, Ron."

"…"

"Hey, Ron? You ok?"

"He's waiting for me."

"So, he'll be pretty tweaked when all four of us show up."

"…"

"Right, Ron?"

"I need to go alone."

"What-"

"Just hover where he can see you, but don't land."

"Ron, I don't think that's—"

"Wade, he'll cut that rope if any of you approach him. He will."

"He'll cut it if _you_ approach him, Ron."

"No.

"And you're sure of that because?"

"It's an honor thing."

"Honor? He wants you and Mariko dead!"

"Yeah, he does. But if I go alone, he won't cut the rope unless he's sure I'm about to die, too. He'll want me to know that I failed my little girl in my final moments."

"Man …"

"Like I said. It's an honor thing."

III.

The first thing Kim saw was Hirotaka. He was some five feet from her, his arms crossed against his chest and his eyes unreadable. A brief glance around informed her that they were standing on some desolate landscape. It was pockmarked by holes and crevices that were leaking smoke or perhaps steam into an overcast sky.

One of these holes separated her from Hirotaka; every few seconds, its intermittent fog blurred the ninja's silhouette against the gray horizon.

The impulse to force him into revealing what he had done with Mariko was quelled by both the knowledge that she had no power to do so and the realization that she and Hirotaka were not alone. The faint clanking of their ungainly armor announced that some, if not all, of the remaining samurians were nearby.

She turned in the direction of Hirotaka's gaze. About one hundred yards away, the eleven remaining kappa warriors were clustered in a loose circle. Some beat the ground with their swords; others howled as they scratched beneath their armor; all stared expectantly above their heads. She followed their eyes, and her heart sank. Directly above the focal point of their formation, _The Kimminator_ was hovering soundlessly.

The next instant a rope ladder unrolled from the side of the transport, landing on the ground below. The loathsome minions shrieked in unison and began to jump feverishly in place. Ron began descending the ladder.

"No!"

Frantically, she began looking all around. For something, anything. To attack the samurians. To warn Ron. To signal _The Kimminator._ To find Mariko. But there was nothing.

And no matter how hard she tried to look elsewhere, she kept returning to the dead, stone-like face of the ninja. Her mouth began to ache, and Kim realized that she was screaming. Screaming uncontrollably at Hirotaka. Screaming at his face, screaming at his cruel, unflinching gaze, trying to scream herself into his mind.

_This is it. I'm going mad. And all I can do is watch Ron being slaughtered in the reflections of his killer's eyes._

Then something happened. Hirotaka's eyes came suddenly alive. Alive and frightened. The change was so unexpected that it immediately brought Kim back to herself.

He was staring down at the hole between them. At first, it didn't seem as if anything had changed about the pit, but once the throbbing began to subside from her temples, Kim realized what had shaken Hirotaka.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" The voice echoing from the hole was urgent, reassuring. Most important for Kim, of course, was the fact that the voice belonged to Mariko.

"Sweatheart!" she cried, quickly kneeling at the pit's edge. "Are you okay?"

"Don't move, Honey!" Mariko called back, seemingly oblivious to her friend's words. "Stay right where you are!"

"Mariko!" yelled Kim. "What's going on? Who are you talking to? Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Mariko's voice suddenly grew deflated, confused. "W-where am I?"

"I'm right here, Mariko!" Kim called into the hole. She could just make out her friend's bound figure moving gently to-and-fro in the pitch darkness. "You're going to be all right. I'm going to get you out—," Kim's tongue cleft to the roof of her suddenly-dried mouth.

Kneeling on the opposite side of the pit with a stiletto-like blade in his right hand, Hirotaka was edging toward a knot of rope secured to an outcrop of stone. Kim, immediately realizing the importance of the rope, surged forward and gripped the knot with both hands. The foreknowledge that the merest brush of Hirotaka's knife against her wrist would cartwheel her across the horizon only made Kim's grip fiercer.

"Kim!" Mariko's voice quaked. "Kim, is that you?"

Kim watched as the ninja's grip on the knife faltered, and it tumbled into the steaming darkness.

"Look out!" Kim screamed. Mariko did not answer. "Mariko!" Kim shrieked.

"What is it?" the girl cried back in the near-frenzied voice of a teenager who had obviously _not_ just been struck by a falling knife. "What's happening? Where am I, Kim?"

Hirotaka sprang to his feet and edged quickly back from the pit. His eyes were no longer unreadable.

"I'm not really sure," Kim called down to her friend, "but I'm getting you out of there."

"Okay, okay," Mariko said, struggling to compose herself. The struggle was lost the moment she recalled her last few moments in the waking world. "Justy! Is-is he all right?"

"Yes, Sweetheart, he is. He is," Kim said, relieved that she could finally deliver some unambiguously good news. And that gave her the needed strength to say what she was utterly unsure of: "Everything's going to be okay."

But these words died as soon as they left her lips.

IV.

Ron stood unarmed at the base of the rope ladder. There was no reason to have the Lotus Blade drawn, even for show. Both he and Hirotaka knew that he could call the sword at an instant's notice. The plan, to the extent that there was one, was to play it cool and to be ready for anything. The ends of Ron's hair stirred in the languid breeze, but everything else about him was still. His eyes were unblinking and steady upon the figure of Hirotaka, about a football field away. His enemy, also stock still, was every few seconds hidden by steam escaping from a cavern on the plateau's surface. And somewhere in that cavern was Mariko. This thought didn't weaken his self-control, but Ron's brown eyes did begin to take on a cerulean cast.

Ron's thoughts were nowhere near as focused as his body was. He knew that he couldn't save Mariko by winning a staring duel with Hirotaka, but he also knew about the ninja's code of "Honor." Any overt action on Ron's part could be read as a sign of weakness by his opponent. And the consequences for such a "sin" were too painful to think about. If only Hirotaka hadn't been so out in the open or if they hadn't been so far apart from each other, maybe Ron could have summoned his MMP quickly enough to overwhelm the ninja. However, Hirotaka had set up the confrontation completely to his advantage. Barring Hirotaka making a foolish mistake, Ron really didn't know how he was going to pull off the rescue.

_Kim would have an idea. She'd know what to do._

Ron controlled the emotions these unanticipated thoughts produced, but it took a concerted effort. An effort so concerted that Ron almost missed seeing Hirotaka clumsily drop to his knees.

_What the-?_

Ron had no idea whether Hirotaka had been bitten by a snake, gotten a cramp, or … was trying to cut Mariko's rope. But there was no way he was going to wait to find out which was true.

He started running.

V.

For a half-second, Hirotaka tried to convince himself that his niece was talking in her sleep. But the NotI did not put one to "sleep." She had somehow broken herself out of the spell.

In the following half-second, Hirotaka experienced something he had not encountered since early childhood—panic. The sensation was so overwhelming that Hirotaka found himself on his knees with his blade drawn before he even knew what he was doing. And then he heard the girl's words.

She was calling out to someone. And when he recognized the name, Hirotaka's panic became fear.

_Possible-san?_

The knife plummeted into the abyss.

Although "Kim" was a common American name, Hirotaka was _certain_ his niece was addressing the Chosen One's first love. Monkey Fist's murder of the teen hero had started the Chosen One down the path of Honor. If Mariko-chan was communing with Possible-san's spirit, what honor could come from taking sides against her?

He steadied himself, controlled his breathing, and looked back out over the plateau to his enemy. An enemy that was now charging toward him.

As he watched his kappa warriors keep pace with and maintain their damoclesean formation around the Chosen One, Hirotaka regained his sense of self.

Honorable or not, he chose his side.

VI.

The first blow sent Ron face first into the plateau's jagged surface. Blood was flowing from his nose and chin when he lifted his head. He may not have been aware of these wounds, however, since his hand reflexively shot to the base of his head, the spot where the heel of the kappa warrior's sword has struck him. He supported himself with his left hand, but did not rise to his feet.

Kim watched as Ron unclasped his head and outstretched his right arm to grip the suddenly materialized lotus blade. He swung it in a large arc in the general vicinity of the source of the attack. However, the kappa warrior avoided the unguided swing with ease. As Ron eyed the empty space behind him, another warrior approached him from the front and nicked his exposed left hand with the edge of his blade. Ron collapsed back to the ground.

They were toying with him. Hirotaka appeared content to cut Ron to shreds in the slowest most agonizing way possible.

"What's happening?!" Mariko screamed.

It was only the cries of her friend that alerted Kim to the fact that she herself was screaming. Then she noticed Ron's alarmed gaze shooting in their direction. Even from that distance and the pain he was undoubtedly experiencing, he had heard and reacted to his daughter's cries. In an instant Kim appraised the situation.

"Mariko! I need you to repeat after me as loudly as you can. Understand?"

"Yeah," Mariko's voice seemed to nod.

A third kappa warrior was approaching Ron from behind. Walking slow but with his sword raised in both hands above head.

"Seven o'clock!" Kim yelled.

"Seven o'clock!" Mariko's cry echoed from the hole.

Ron shook his head, as if clearing his mind, but did not move.

"Seven o'clock!" Kim screamed.

"Seven o'clock!" Mariko repeated.

Ron still did not move.

"Please, Ron!"

"Please, Ron!" Mariko screamed.

Ron spun on his knees and delivered a blow to the approaching warrior's midsection. In an eruption of cobalt light, the sword severed the warrior in two, transforming it into a jagged pile of hissing stones on the ground.

Ron was understandably taken aback by this sudden appearance of smoldering rocks from mid-air. However, his surprise was nothing compared to the reaction it produced in the kappa warriors. They sprang quickly away from Ron, their hooting so intense that the hair along Kim's arms stood on edge.

"Ron?" Mariko called up from the darkness. "Wait, is dad here?"

"Yes, sweetheart," Kim said, studying Hirotaka's shaken expression. "He's in trouble right now, but we're going to save him."

Hirotaka clenched his right fist and a kappa warrior directly on Ron's left reluctantly began to advance.

"Three o'clock!" Kim cried.

"Three o'clock!" Mariko repeated.

Ron struck to his immediate right. The blade only caught the warrior's right wrist, but, its entire body shattered into stone fragments. Eyeing both piles of smoldering stones, Ron slowly hobbled back to his feet.

Kim turned her attention to Hirotaka. Although she was watching him for any gesture that might signal another kappa attack, she was also looking for any indication that he might go for Mariko's rope again. If that happened, she really didn't know what she could do.

_Jump down after her. Catch her, shield her body and, maybe, just bounce around for a while …_

Gradually, Hirotaka's features began to retake a composed, blank aspect.

Kim turned back to Ron. Two warriors were advancing, one from the rear and one from front.

"Noon and six o'clock!"

"Noon and six o'clock!" Mariko repeated.

Just as Ron went to swing behind him, Kim caught movement from Hirotaka in the corner of her eye. Immediately, both warriors retreated. And, almost immediately, a third approached from the right.

"No, nine o'clock!" Kim cried.

"No, nine o'clock!" Mariko called from the darkness.

Kim watched as Hirotaka clenched his fist, and this warrior, too, beat a hasty retreat out of the path of Ron's attack.

This was never going to work, Kim realized. Even if Ron's attacks were at their stealthy ninja best, it made no difference so long as Hirotaka knew that Mariko knew which kappa warrior was advancing; he would have ample time to summon it safely away. Kim watched Ron support himself on the hilt of the blade. Although not terribly wounded, Ron was in pain. And winded.

Kim believed—hoped-that because of some "honor-among-ninjas" code, Hirotaka wouldn't charge Ron on all fronts at once. Nevertheless, in Ron's current condition, it wouldn't take too many of these false "attacks" before Ron would become too weak and worn-down to defend himself.

_Better for Ron to attack then._

But still, that didn't solve the problem of Hirotaka knowing which warrior Ron would be attacking.

A warrior behind Ron began to approach him with significantly less reluctance than his predecessors.

"Eight o'clock!"

"Eight o'clock!"

Following a gesture from Hirotaka, the warrior skipped back from Ron's lunge. Ron caught himself from falling to the ground with his left elbow.

It occurred to Kim that since Mariko knew so many languages, she could signal her father in one that her uncle did not know. But, of course, every language the girl knew would also be known by her fellow Yamanouchi "alumnus."

 _What language_ didn't _they teach at that horrible school?_

And, of course, there was the problem of what language other than English did Ron know?He had barely passed Latin twenty years ago, and, besides, the dead tongue was just another language Hirotaka would have down cold.

A sudden gust enveloped Ron and the samurians as the Kimminator began its descent.

"No!" Kim screamed.

"No!" Mariko echoed.

"No!" Ron screamed, waving off the ship's approach with his wounded arm.

They were only landing to give him aid. But Kim knew, as she suspected Ron did, that they would only be putting themselves in danger and increasing the chances that Hirotaka would cut Mariko's rope.

"What going on?" Mariko called desperately from the pit.

As he tried to signal the Kimminator, Ron lost his balance and fell on his back. The lotus blade, which had been supporting most of his body weight, remained standing upright, stuck in the earth. Kim watched as his form stopped moving.

"Please, Kim!" Mariko cried.

Seven samarians rushed the grounded Kimminator and awaited its doors to open while the other two strode confidently toward Ron.

"Talk to me!" the girl pleaded.

"Hebrew!" Kim yelled.

"What are you-" Mariko sobbed.

"Repeat after me in Hebrew!" Kim ordered. "Six o'clock and three!"

"Six o'clock! Three o'clock!" Mariko screamed in Hebrew.

Ron lay on his back unmoving, and, Kim didn't know if he had heard Mariko's cries or if he was even still conscious. The two samurians raised their weapons in unison.

Weakly, Ron raised his right arm before the Kapa Warrior on his right, as if he were feebly warding off the devastating blow that he would never see coming.

The warrior exploded into dust as the Lotus Blade sprung from the earth into Ron's waiting hand. Before the cloud of blue 'glitter' dispersed it was subsumed by a second as Ron swung the sword into the warrior standing at his feet.

"Yes!" Kim cried.

"Yes!" Mariko echoed in Hebrew.

The seven samurians at the still-closed door of the Kimminator, turned in the direction of their confederates' combustions. Baring their teeth, and furiously banging the flats of their swords into the earth, they did not notice as the vehicle's door opened and Wade Load emerged.

As Ron shakily reached his feet, the mob began its howling charge back towards him.

"Seven O'clock! Incoming fast," Kim called down to Mariko.

"Seven O'clock!" Mariko cried in Hebrew.

Ron swung the Lotus Blade as instructed. The sword's tip grazed the nose of the lead samurian; his body's surface instantly fractured into a network of spider web-thin fissures and then crumpled into itself. As Ron completely his swing, the sword bisected another warrior whose destruction was far less elaborate. He simply became two chunks of monkey-shaped stone.

The remaining five kappa warriors broke their charge and began to encircle Ron. They kept their distance-about ten feet-from their target, but continued to orbit him counterclockwise, howling and brandishing their weapons.

Kim took a quick moment to glance back at Hirotaka. Although she had by no means decoded the system of gestures he used to control his troops, perhaps she could anticipate some of his actions before he made them. She was therefore surprised to see that he wasn't even watching the unfolding battle.

He was just staring at the back of his right hand.

VII.

Although Hirotaka was unable to feel any sensation in his hand, the undulations on the surface of his skin looked quite painful. The ninja observed the disturbing changes to his body with a substantial degree of detachment.

There was still time to stop the curse's progress and even reverse it. But, for some reason, Hirotaka couldn't focus on the steps that he needed to take. The instant he had heard his niece speaking words he could not recognize, his mind lost its balance. Other seemingly less pressing concerns began to distract him. Shadows plagued his thoughts. That is, _memories_ of shadows. And the buzzing of cicadas as summer heat rippled outside a pagoda on a long-ago July morning. It was the morning Sensei had initiated Yori on the path of honor.

He glanced back down at his hand and noted absently how the pigment of his skin had begun to fade. The change was not subtle. And it was moving swiftly up his arm.

He recalled the small rock he had picked up as he waited outside the pagoda that morning under the beating sun. He had enjoyed this type of stone when he first came to Yamanouchi. It could be peeled into strips. And once the layers came off, they could be looked through, and they changed color if held against the sun. Sensei said it wasn't honorable to play with rocks. But Sensei was busy in the pagoda, so Hirotaka had a few moments to indulge in "dishonor."

As the curse reached his right shoulder, Hirotaka remembered learning years later that the name for that type of stone was mica. Trying hard to ignore the howls coming from his impatient kappa warriors, he looked about his feet bemusedly to see if a small chunk of mica might be within his reach. Even now, at the very end, there might be time to be dishonorable.

VIII.

Kim turned back to see a samurian charging with two swords drawn. "Five O'clock, Ron!"

"Five O'clock, Dad!"

The Lotus Blade didn't even strike the advancing warrior's body, just his swords, yet he disintegrated into a pile of blue dust anyway.

Apparently free from Hirotaka's control and guidance, the remaining four samurians seemed confused. Grunts and hoots were exchanged between them. They lowered their weapons, but that didn't put Kim at ease.

"Is … is it over?" Mariko asked after a few moments.

"Not sure," Kim replied, shooting a glance over her shoulder to check on Hirotaka. A part of her still worried that he might decide at any moment to untie the rope that was supporting Mariko. But he wasn't doing that. In fact, he wasn't doing much of anything.

However, what washappening _to him_ made Kim lose her focus.

_What …?_

The battle shriek of the samurians, like a warped lamentation, pierced Kim's distracted thoughts. She spun around to see the four warriors assailing Ron at once.

"Nine, Six, Three, Noon!" Kim screamed.

"Nine! Six! Three!" Mariko cried from the pit.

The urgency of their voices caused the words to overlap, so that Mariko did not hear the final word. But before she could ask Kim to repeat it, she heard her father screaming in pain.

IX.

The sounds of the battle between Stoppable-san and the remaining kappa warriors compelled Hirotaka to raise his head once or twice, but he remained inwardly focused. He was trying hard to remember. To remember what he had forgotten on that humid morning so many years ago.

He relived the moments over and over, but kept missing what he was trying to recall. The cicadas. The heat. Flakes of the mica fluttering to the ground to get lost within blades of grass. The paling shadows of the pagoda stretching across his line of vision.

He felt an unfamiliar spasm trickle across the right side of his face. He went to raise his right hand and then remembered that that was no longer possible. He raised his left instead and caught the tear as it reached the base of his left cheek. He held it, balanced on the center of his index's fingertip, and studied it with some interest.

It was then he remembered what he had forgotten. What he had, until that moment, always successfully forgotten. The noises his little sister had made as Sensei initiated her inside the pagoda.

Perhaps peeling a stone had not been the dishonorable act he committed that day.

X.

Stone does not burn. Certainly, not by the heat of a candle.

As Sensei was simultaneously lighting the last ceremonial candle and shooing away the troublesome shades of Rina and Fukushima, he dropped the long-stemmed wick onto the table, and it rolled over the far edge and onto the floor. He suppressed a curse and languidly ate another chocolate.

When he reached the other side of the table, he found, instead of the burnt-out wick he had expected, a growing flame that was spreading across the bare stone floor of his dwelling. The sight was so surprising that the old man waved his arms before his face as if to wipe away a mirage. In doing so the heavy trailing left arm of his robe knocked over one of the candles near the scroll of finals. Instantly, the scroll was ablaze.

Hurriedly, the old man began to blot at the flames that were rapidly eating holes in the document. Instead of putting out the small fires, his actions were causing the burnt flakes of the scroll to fly further about and land on untouched sections of the parchment, causing them to kindle into flames as well. His actions became more frenzied and then he began to cough. The dreadful thought occurred to him that he had swallowed one of the floating cinders and then, quite abruptly, he found himself face down on the floor.

The normally cold stones of the floor were heating the skin of his face and palms. He painfully lifted and turned his head. The flames were gathering all about him. It wasn't possible, but everything in his shelter, flammable or not, was burning. The floating cinders from the scroll floated down to meet the heaps of foil wrappers that had begun shrinking and contracting under the intense heat. Sensei felt a great burning in his lungs and, again, feared that he had inhaled ashes from the scroll of finals.

And then Time stopped waiting.

The old man expired before the flames could reach his body. However, in the half-instant before he died, Sensei was vouchsafed a prophetic vision. He glimpsed the impending legacy for his ancestors' code of Honor, its future.

And like himself, it didn't have one.

Stone does not burn, and, it certainly does not sag, collapse and melt away from the heat produced by a candle; these are facts. But this is a fact, too: the stones that composed Sensei's shelter did just these things.

XI.

Ron folded into a heap, and the Lotus Blade clattered against the stones. The dust of the three vanquished kappa warriors encircled him and began to dissolve in the breeze. When he lifted his head, Kim could tell, even though he wasn't facing her, that he was crying. After a moment, he lowered his head back to the ground.

The last samurian adjusted the grip on his bloodied sword. As he eyed Ron fighting for breath, he smiled.

"Oh, God, no, no." Kim moaned.

"What happened?" Mariko called out. "Tell me what's happening!"

For the first time that day, Kim truly began to panic. _What? What can I tell her?_

"Ron!" Wade yelled.

Kim watched as her brothers and Wade raced across the plateau to Ron's aid. The samurian turned away from Ron and awaited his new enemies' approach.

"No!" Kim cried. "Mariko! You've got to tell them to stop! Go back!"

Mariko, shaken by the desperation in Kim's voice, didn't ask who she was supposed to be addressing. "Go back! Please!"

Kim watched with relief as Jim, Tim, and Wade halted as they heard Mariko's warning. Then they suddenly began moving again—running straight into the samurian's path.

"No, no!" Kim cried. "Mariko, tell them there is an invisible warrior right in their path! They have to stop!" She heard Mariko echo her warning, and but this resulted in the trio only pausing momentarily before they started running again. They were going to be within the warrior's range within seconds.

"Who are 'they'?" Mariko called from the pit.

With sudden clarity, Kim realized her mistake. She'd heard Mariko's words, as she always did, as if the girl was speaking in English, but, to her brothers and Wade, she was still speaking Hebrew.

"Guys!" Ron yelled, his head barely raised from the rock face. "Its fine," he weakly waved his arm, signaling them to stop.

Ron's sudden words caused the samurian to lose his focus. He shot looks at the now stationary Team Possible and then to Ron and then back to Team Possible.

"It sure doesn't look 'fine'," Tim observed.

"Mariko and I got this," Ron said with a weak yet confident-ish shake of his head.

_They didn't understand Mariko, but Ron did._

"Are you sure, Ron?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, we're good," Ron nodded. "Coolio."

When Ron let the last word drop, Kim smiled.

"What's happening?" Mariko's wavering voice asked.

"Everything's going to be all right, sweetheart," Kim replied.

"Everything's fine, Honey," Ron called out. "Just tell me what I need to do."

"High noon, Ron," Kim said. "High noon."

"Noon, Dad!

Ron did not move, but, at about the time Kim began to suspect that he hadn't heard, the Lotus Blade sprang a foot or so from the ground and, with an anticlimactic flourish, reduced the final kappa warrior to a pile of rocks.

XII.

As Jim was treating Ron's injuries, Wade and Tim rescued Mariko from the hole.

"Are you okay?" Wade asked.

"How's Dad?" she replied.

"He'll be fine," Tim said, undoing the bonds from her legs. "How are _you_ doing, Mariko?"

She dismissed the question with a shake of head. "How's Dad, really?"

"We'll hook him up to the med unit on the Kimminator." Wade placed his hand on her shoulder. "And take him to the nearest hospital. He's going to be fine."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really." Wade confirmed.

But she hadn't been asking Wade or even looking in his direction. And she didn't relax until Kim nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Some serious abrasions on your wrists and ankles, but nothing permanent," Wade commented. "And you could probably do with a saline drip," he said as he examined her wan features. "But you're okay."

Mariko, completely free of the ropes, made a motion to stand.

"Oh no, M," Tim said, "You're not _that_ okay." He gently scooped her into his arms.

It was the type of gesture that on a normal day would have caused both Kim and Mariko to roll their eyes. But not today. The look they exchanged and then flashed at Kim's little brother said that today it was more than fine.

"I'm sure you've got some explanation for _that_ , Dr. Load," Tim nodded to something behind Wade's shoulder.

Wade turned and looked, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare. "Oh, yeah, _that_."

"I'll expect a full report by the time we get back to Middleton," Tim said as he turned to carry Mariko back to her father.

"To be honest, Tim," Wade said, turning his back on the rock formation with a distinctive humanoid shape, "of all the mysteries we've run into today, that is the one I feel least inclined to solve."

XIII.

As they neared the spot where a bandaged Ron was resting upon one of the Kimminator's levitating gurneys, Mariko predictably jumped from Tim's arms and ran to her father's side.

"Daddy!"

She hugged him fiercely, and if the hug was too tight for his injured shoulder, Kim felt sure that wasn't the reason he was crying.

If she had to give the reason why _she_ was crying, Kim could have provided a list. However, hearing Mariko's voice break as she called her father by a name she hadn't used in years would have been in the top five.

Even Jim and Tim found it difficult to keep their machismo in check and busied themselves a little too loudly with tasks that really didn't need doing at that moment.

As for Wade, Kim was very impressed with how he maintained his cool composure as tear streams ran down both cheeks and met beneath his chin.

After a few minutes, everyone, more or less, got themselves under control.

"Wow, Mariko," Ron beamed, "you have some serious MMMP skills there."

Before Mariko could respond, Wade asked, "I know 'MMP' means 'Mystical Monkey Power,' Ron. But what does 'triple-M P' mean?"

"Mad Mystical Monkey Power," Jim, Tim, and Ron replied without hesitation.

"Jinx," Kim whispered. When she looked over to Mariko, she noticed the girl was wearing a funny look. "What's wrong, Honey?"

But Mariko didn't answer her. She only frowned and looked at her feet.

"I mean, none of the ancient scrolls I've read," Ron continued, "or, rather, none of the ancient scrolls your mother _read to me_ ever mentioned anything like what you did today. I mean seeing those things at all, let alone when you were down in that hole—"

"It wasn't me, dad," Mariko replied. She gave Kim a quick glance and then shot her face back down.

"Huh?"

She shook her head slightly and fidgeted with the edges of her spirit dance dress. "I didn't do anything." After a moment of silence, Mariko raised her head, took a deep breath, and took the plunge.

"It was Kim Possible."

XIV.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Kim Possible. Your friend. She's the one who saved you. Saved us."

"What are you talking about, Mariko?" Wade asked finally.

Mariko was now staring at Kim. Although Kim was trying her hardest not to let her emotions show or to influence her friend in any way, the girl must have seen something in her expression because she started talking very rapidly.

"I heard her voice. She told me who she was. She said that she was your friend, Dad, and that you were in trouble. She said that we had to save you. And then she told me what to say. What I had to say to protect you. To protect everyone."

Kim watched her shoes began to blur and melt as tears, once again, began to fall. She wiped them away with the sleeves of her peasant shirt and looked up. In the stunned silence that had followed Mariko's announcement, _everyone_ was looking at their feet.

Everyone that is, except Ron. He had propped himself up in the gurney by his elbows and was looking straight ahead. _Looking straight at Kim._

"Oh, Kim," he sighed. "I-I always knew you were there. Always. No matter how bad things got, and they got pretty bad, I always believed you were watching out for me. For us."

As Kim's feet led her closer and closer to the man she loved, his gaze stayed focused directly upon her. The look in his eyes made her chest hurt, but in a good way.

This sensation coupled with the heartbeat she could feel pulsing behind her eyes strengthened a growing notion that she was, in fact, fully alive again. If not returned from the dead, then still alive in another way. Perhaps she had been following an altered lifeline. One that ran separate but parallel with the rest of the world. A trajectory of life maintained and safeguarded by an unknown power, supernatural force, or by the wish of a little girl. And this life's course could, every once in a very great while, branch into the course of the greater world. And, at such moments, maybe, both paths could, for the briefest of instants, touch each other and … make anything possible.

As Kim drew closer, she could see that Ron's eyes were wet and shining in the last light of the day. And they were still looking in her direction.

"Kim, I've missed you so much."

"Oh, Ron," Kim whispered as she reached out to cup his face in her hands.

The intensity of the keening caused Kim to cover both ears. Backing away in pain, she could see that Ron was speaking, but she could not hear him. She turned away so she wouldn't have to see the expression of deep gratitude on his face. The expression he was directing to the sky and nowhere else.

Stifling a sob, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on the sound of her own breathing. If she could ground herself upon one single thing, she could maintain control. Until … until … for the first time since the day her second life began, the prospect of oblivion was welcoming.

But a sound kept breaking her concentration. A sound like … hiccups.

Kim looked and saw Mariko, sitting off to the side with her back to everyone.

Kim lay her hands on the girl's shuddering shoulders, leaned over and gently kissed the top of her head.

"It's all right, Honey," she whispered. "Everything's fine."

Mariko hiccupped and shook her head.

"Mariko?" Wade asked. His words brought Jim, Tim, and Ron back into the present.

"What's going on?" Jim asked.

"Are you hurt?" Tim said.

A series of head shakes and hiccups answered these queries.

"Mariko …" Ron began.

"Whoa, whoa, Ron," Tim cried. "Don't even _think_ about getting down."

Kim quickly stepped around Mariko to look into her eyes, but the girl's hands were completely covering her face. She pressed her forehead lightly against the small visible patch of Mariko's forehead. "Come on, Honey, your daddy needs you."

Mariko lowered her hands and looked back at Kim. She had been crying into her hands so fiercely that even her eyebrows were wet. She mouthed, "I'm so, so sorry."

Kim smiled back brightly and mouthed a response. "No big."

"Really?" Mariko managed to mouth between hiccups.

Without breaking eye contact, Kim nodded. Just as Wade and Jim reached Mariko and Kim was forced by their boundaries to back away, she mouthed slowly and deliberately, "I love you."

Shaking with sobs, Mariko turned into Ron's waiting embrace. The gurney tipped at such a sharp angle that it was all Jim and Tim could do to keep it from flipping over. Ron murmured consolations and stroked his daughter's disheveled hair, but soon the Monkey Master was crying just as hard as she was. Slowly, he lowered his arms and was himself supported by his daughter's embrace.

Kim found herself standing behind Mariko and, without any thought upon what she was doing, she leaned in and hugged her. Kim's chest was cradling the girl's back and her head lay gently against her neck. And her arms encircled Mariko's whose arms were, in turn, encircling Ron.

As close as she was to her brothers and as especially close as she was to Ron, there was strangely no keening. Kim reflected absently that Mariko was somehow providing a bridge between her and the ones she loved from her previous life. However, this was just a passing observation. What mattered to Kim was the satisfaction of knowing that she was, from a certain point of view at least, hugging her two best friends.

XV.

Over the next few minutes, Mariko gradually forgave herself for revealing Kim's secret. As she did so, she ceased to cry. And as she ceased to cry, so did her father.

However, she didn't want to let go, didn't want to break up the embrace between her father and Kim. She knew that eventually she would have to stand up, but while there was still time, she wanted to enjoy the feeling. The feeling of immense security and warmth. And the faint reverberations of the heartbeats of her father and her best friend. Most of all, Mariko wished to catch and hold onto the random, fleeting seconds when all three of their heartbeats pulsed together, as one.

* * *

_To be continued …_

**Postscript:** I received my first inspiration for what became the final battle with the kappa warriors after listening to Sir Salman Rushdie's song "Ground Beneath Her Feet", as performed by _U2_.


	35. Yagon

I.

Initially, there was only tenderness.

Bathed in warmth, Kim was given to a sensation akin to floating upon an ebbing tide along an immense beach. The feeling would gently yet steadily increase to the point where she lost herself between the diminishing waves and the countless grains of sand. Before disappearing beneath the shore's cool surface, she would, with great effort, flutter open her eyes. Indistinct shapes moved languidly against an infinite field of red. No matter how hard she strained, her vision refused to focus. Except for once, when for the briefest of instants, the red expanse resolved itself into what appeared to be a tangle of unfamiliar constellations in a cloudless night sky.

At first, Kim didn't even have the words to properly describe these experiences, let alone identify what they were. However, as the weeks and months passed, they began to occur more frequently and extend in duration. When she did finally solve their mystery, the reason why they had originally confounded her was obvious. So many years had gone by since she had been in such a state, that its all-too-common sensations and tell-tale cues had become utterly foreign to her.

They were dreams. And Kim took their sudden appearance as a portent that her second life was drawing inexorably to its close.

II.

At first, Kim didn't share her dreams with Mariko. Thinking about them, let alone talking about them, made her extremely anxious. Besides, she argued to herself, there was no need to make Mariko needlessly worry. What with grad school, Justy working two jobs, and the Big Development, her friend had more than enough to fret about. But, finally, Kim had to acknowledge what she had always known to be true. Keeping secrets was unfair.

"Uh-huh," Mariko nodded, a small wrinkle between her eyebrows. "So how do you know that they're dreams?"

As Kim tried to discern whether the crease between Mariko's eyes was a sign of worry or just an indicator of the inevitable brain-freeze from the milkshake her friend was drinking way too fast, she found that she didn't have a good answer for Mariko. The 'dreams' were unremarkable. Literally. There was really only the underlying feelings of warmth and calm. And the redness.

"Well, maybe, they aren't dreams." Kim frowned. "Maybe they're just … moments of unconsciousness?"

"Okay, maybe you don't dream—you just 'red out'?"

"Maybe," Kim said shaking her head. "But why is this happening now? For years and years, I've been either conscious or not here at all. Why all of a sudden would I start dozing off?"

"Got me," Mariko said, thoughtfully stirring her milkshake with a pickle spear. "Maybe you're just getting old. Bubbe takes catnaps in the middle of dinner all the time."

Kim smiled faintly. Despite her unnatural state of being (or maybe because of it), the possibility of 'getting old' had a certain appeal to it. Of course, what came after 'getting old' in the natural progression might also happen to her, too. To stave off the awakened sense of dread this thought produced, Kim placed her hand on Mariko's belly.

"Booger's been quiet today." Mariko said, removing the novel that she had splayed across the top of her baby bump for the past few minutes as they had talked.

Although Mariko and Justy had decided against finding out their baby's gender, Mariko chaffed against calling their child 'he or she', 'the baby', or, worst of all, 'it.' So, she had settled on the innocuous moniker 'Booger.' This name had initially irked Kim, but it had grown on her surprisingly quickly. As to the baby's potential real names, Mariko had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped.

"I think this kid is trying to avoid me," Kim smirked. She leaned in close to Mariko's belly and whispered, "No one can evade Kim Possible forever, Booger. Sooner or later, I'll catch you in the act." This gesture was as much for her benefit as it was for Mariko's unborn child. It had started to really bother Kim that she had never felt her friend's baby kick. In fact, she had never even been present when the child had been the slightest bit active, not once. Although not as ominous as her 'dreams,' she didn't take this as a good omen.

"Is that the last book of the term?" Kim asked trying to focus on something mundane.

"Yep, only fifty more pages or so. Then I can begin to put off writing the paper on it."

"And when is this paper due?" Kim arched an eyebrow.

"Last week."

"Of course, it was."

"I do my best stuff when marinating," Mariko said as she took a bite out of her pickle and then let it plop back into the now-empty glass. "You should give it a try." She leaned back in the new recliner that Ron had delivered to the Rentons' apartment just a few days earlier.

"Now that I'm getting old, right?" Kim shook her head again.

Mariko abruptly leaned forward and placed her hand on Kim's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" Kim asked, swiftly doing an internal check that her 'smile' was still in full force on her face.

Mariko's cocoa eyes didn't waver.

"I'm sorry," Kim said finally. "I'm so sorry."

"About what?"

"I'm scared," Kim heard herself say.

"That you're getting old?" Mariko's hand was now wiping a tear from Kim's cheek.

"No. I mean, maybe. I don't know. I'm just worried about the dreams and maybe that they mean that I _am_ getting old."

"Okay." The crease on Mariko's brow was definitely not due to a brain freeze.

"And. And." Kim stumbled for a moment and then her fears flowed out. "I don't know what'll happen then, or I think I know—I'll just be gone and won't ever come back and if that happens I don't know when it'll happen or how. I mean, what if I don't get to see Booger? What if I don't even get to say good-bye to you?" Kim was crying so hard that her teeth had begun to chatter.

Mariko hugged her close. "Okay," Mariko said. "Okay. Okay."

Gradually, Kim reclined onto the chair's armrest and allowed herself to fold into Mariko's sideways embrace. Moments later, Mariko began to rock the chair gently with the tips of her toes against the carpet.

As she regained herself, Kim reflected on the irony that Mariko was now five years older than she was. Or, rather, five years older than she had ever gotten to be. Their age gap and her friend's comforting gesture reminded Kim of the handful of times in her childhood when she had wished for an older sister. If she was lucky enough to continue existing for many more years, how much more might their relationship change?

"I don't want you to go." Mariko said firmly. "I won't let you."

Kim admired her friend's resolve. It even made her feel a little less anxious. And this confidence didn't falter even after Mariko went through four fistfuls of tissues to clear her own nose and dry her own tears.

Kim placed her right hand on Mariko's belly once more and felt the warmth of the new life within pulse rhythmically into her palm.

But there was still no movement.

III.

It was different this time.

The red canopy that enshrouded everything in her 'dreamscape' seemed several shades deeper to Kim. And yet, at the same time, the world was brighter; there was more 'light.' Although it was just as void of characters or setting as it ever had been, this time the dream reminded Kim of something. Something from her previous life.

The warmth of the beach sun beat through her closed eyelids as she began to fall asleep on a day during that summer after Pre-K. She could recall staying so quiet that she could hear her own pulse over the distant sounds of the surf. All that was missing to make the 'dream' a realized memory was the sound of the waves and the sound of Ron crying as he was being chased by a seagull. The sound of her pulse in the dream was so strong that it gradually crowded out everything else. It grew so loud that it sounded as if it was doubling up on itself, almost like an echo.

Kim found herself in the backseat of the Sloth. The sun coming through the windshield forced her to shadow her eyes with her hand. Slowly, she made out the shape of Mariko's head and shoulders in the driver's seat. But there was something odd about her outline. Her friend's head was bent forward and her shoulders were scrunched together.

_Oh, no! Is it time?_

"Mariko," Kim asked softly, so as not to startle her, "are you okay?"

"Kim!" The face Mariko showed over her shoulder beamed with excitement. "Excellent timing—you've gotta check this out!"

Her words and demeanor reasonably assured Kim that she hadn't reappeared just as Mariko was going into labor.

_But, then again, she is Ron's daughter …_

"Booger has never been this active. Well, shoot, he just stopped, but I am sure he's just taking a breather, let me get the partition down, so you can feel."

The partition slid down about a quarter inch and then stopped.

"Oh, no, not again!" Mariko cried.

"Didn't Wade just fix that?"

"Yeah, he did. For the fifth time in the last year. Nothing else in this car has ever broken down, but this stupid thing does all the time."

"Don't worry about it, Mariko," Kim sighed. "I'll catch Booger in the act someday."

"I know, but this just tanks. Not ten seconds ago he was doing a soccer-jujitsu combo and now nothing."

Kim eyed the partition warily. For the past few weeks, she had been plagued with the fear that when the end of her second life came, it would be at a moment when she would be unable to reach Mariko. A drawn shower curtain, a mostly closed closet door, or this stupid partition would create an impermeable boundary between her and her friend. As her final seconds ticked away, she wouldn't be able to give Mariko a final hug or even grasp her hand. The idea of being able to see her friend clearly but not able to touch her was an aching dread that Kim found herself revisiting far too often.

"I told him that he would have to turn it side wise, but, you know, how Dad is."

"Huh? I'm sorry."

"Exactly." Mariko paused her story, her right eyebrow arched with gentle annoyance. "You're even starting to zone out like Dad. I was just explaining how he got the recliner jammed in the front door."

"What? What happened?"

"Last night a spring broke or something—guess too many milkshakes—so, it's stuck in full recline. Dad tried to take it back to the store this morning, but got it jammed in the front door. Of course, it got stuck exactly midway up the frame, so it was too low to duck under and too high to climb over."

"I see. So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, it's not there anymore. He got it out, but now we need a new door frame—it's totally shredded."

"How did _that_ happen?"

"He turned the Lotus Blade into a crowbar to pry the recliner out."

"Oh, Ron."

"Yeah, so we can't close the door until he finishes replacing the frame. That's what I'm doing—killing time until—OWW!"

"What's wrong?" Without thinking, Kim jumped into the front seat. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Mariko said, her eyes closed, her hand on the side of her belly. "It's just another Braxton Hicks', I've been having them off and on for a few days." She opened her eyes, "Everything's okay."

But everything was not okay.

_Wait, how did I get here? Isn't the partition still up?_

The instant this question occurred to Kim, she realized she could no longer feel the front seat beneath her. A second later, she realized she was _passing through_ the seat as if it wasn't there. Or, rather, as if _she_ wasn't there.

"Kim!" Mariko's voice sounded horrified. "What's going on?"

"I-I don't know!" To keep herself from sinking through the bottom of the car, Kim stretched out her arms to Mariko. That's when she realized that Mariko's horror wasn't limited to her inexplicable exit from the Sloth. Both her arms, from the shoulder to her elbows were translucent. And this transparency was steadily creeping down her arms and across her chest. She was fading. Like breath on a mirror.

Mariko grasped Kim by her still solid forearms and lifted her back into the Sloth's cab. "What? What?"

"It-it's happening!" Kim cried.

"What!?"

Kim gritted her teeth. "I'm going. I'm going away."

"No, that can't happen!"

"Can you see through me? Can you?"

Mariko bit her lip and nodded. Quickly, she tried to embrace Kim, but her arms only collided clumsily with each other as they passed through Kim's transparent chest.

Kim tried to grasp the Sloth's steering wheel with her right hand to keep herself from falling further. Although it appeared solid, her hand passed right through the wheel.

"Don't go! Stay, stay with me!" Mariko cried clutching Kim's right wrist. Thankfully, Kim's 'solid' features still connected with her friend. However, the translucence was advancing almost to her wrist.

"I can't stop it." Kim eyed her left arm quickly, only her hand was still solid. "I-I'm sorry, Honey." She looked back to her friend, but Mariko was fumbling with her v-phone. "What are you doing, Mariko?"

"Calling Dad." The phone fell from Mariko's trembling hand, bounced once on the seat, and landed in the cluster of shadows around her feet. "No! No! You have to see him one more time!"

Kim placed the remaining fingers of her left hand against her friend's damp cheek, so that the young woman's cocoa gaze met hers. "I already do, Honey. I already do."

Mariko blinked furiously to clear her pooling eyes. "This is so, so unfair."

"I know. I'm sorry." Kim said. Her left hand vanished.

"No," Mariko shook her head, "it's unfair _to you_."

As what remained of her right hand held tightly to her friend, Kim smiled. "No, it has been more than fair to me. I got two lifetimes. I got two best friends."

Mariko squeezed her eyes shut and murmured, "G-goodbye …"

And then the young woman uttered a word that Kim hadn't heard her friend say in years. It was a word that Kim herself had said innumerable times but one that for the longest time she never dreamed would be used to address her.

And at the instant she believed that her heart could no longer contain its riot of emotions, Kimberly Ann Possible disappeared forever.

IV.

"Sweetie, what's going on? Are you hurt? Mariko, talk to me!"

Mariko had no idea how long her father had been calling out to her. When the phone landed in the foot, it must have dialed his code. There was no telling how long he had been trying to yell over her furious misery.

_What can I say?_

Mariko had only told her father about Kim once. Five years earlier on Mt. Tate. And she had lied then. How could she tell him what was killing her without revealing the whole truth to him? What might that truth do to him? She groaned and wiped her chin with her right sleeve. The edges of both sleeves were soaked. Tears were trickling along the edge of the steering wheel, too.

"Mariko, are you ok!?"

 _No_.

Mariko was in no condition whatsoever to break her father's heart. Yet, she also refused to lie to him a second time about his best friend. A small, yet noticeably growing, part of her championed the option of buying some time by 'accidentally' ending the call with her foot. But she refused do that either.

"OWW!" Mariko clutched her lower stomach. The Braxton Hicks contractions had continued steadily the past few minutes, but she had been so distracted by Kim's … departure, that she had barely registered them. This last one she noticed. It was followed almost immediately by another. "OWW! Oh man, that hurts."

She tried adjusting her position in the seat and discovered that it was wet, too. She had never cried so much in her life. It was a wonder the windows hadn't fogged up.

_Waitaminute._

She felt the front of the seat again.

"Oh my God. Dad! Dad! My water broke!"

There was no response.

"Dad are you still there?" Mariko looked between her feet and discovered her v-phone, the screen completely black, beneath her left heel. "Seriously?!"

Fortunately, Mariko's foot was equally adept at intentionally powering on her phone as it was with inadvertently powering it off. She was pretty sure that she could dial her dad's code if she could get her shoe off, but this proved to be unnecessary. When the device's screen finally came on, Ron's face was already filling it.

"What's going on?" he yelled.

"W-water's broke." Mariko sighed between contractions.

"Oh, okay," her father replied in a much-less-frazzled tone that somehow managed to sound even more panicked than his cry just seconds before. "On my way." The call ended.

He was back a second later. "I love you, Sweetie."

"I love you too, Dad," she smiled. "Call Justy okay?"

"You got it," and he was gone again.

Even if she hadn't told her dad earlier that she was going to be chilling by the park, he would have been able to track her position by the chip Wade had installed in the Sloth. He'd be there in minutes; Mariko just needed to breathe and remain calm.

She stared at the cloudless sky through the windshield and found that her thoughts couldn't latch onto anything. This was a good thing.

_Breathe. Focus on being unfocused. Breathe._

A flash of red in the rearview mirror unfortunately caught her attention. The book she still hadn't finished lay crumbled in the backseat. Mariko instantly lost whatever control she had been struggling to maintain.

The tears returned, but they were furious and bitter. She wanted nothing so much as to grab the book, rip out its pages, shred each one, and then ball all the pieces tightly into her palms until they vanished and were nothing.

She had almost finished the novel the night before. In fact, she was on the second-to-the-last page. However, as she read the final paragraph, she was inexplicably filled with anger. The main character was dying and to stave off the fear of his immanent mortality, he imagined himself among a brotherhood of 'sleeping' mythical figures.

_The world is full of sleepers waiting for their moment of return: Arthur sleeps in Avalon, Barbarossa in his cave. Finn MacCool lies in the Irish hillsides and the Worm Ouroboros on the bed of the Sundering Sea. Australia's ancestors, the Wandjina, take their ease underground, and somewhere, in a tangle of thorns, a beauty in a glass coffin awaits a prince's kiss._

She had shut the book and hurled it across the room. Her action had been so violent that it caused the recliner to rock and almost tip over. Although she was able to keep it from falling over, it made a loud 'thwap' noise when she got up to retrieve the book. And from that moment, it was stuck in a full reclined position.

Mariko was at a loss as to why those lines so infuriated her. That is, until she forced herself to think about them.

Weeks before, she had promised her overwrought best friend that she wouldn't let her go, that she wouldn't let her disappear. It was a pledge she knew she couldn't keep. Lame, childish words that had no more chance of succeeding than the useless scheme she had dreamed up when she was five of having Justy kiss Kim 'back to life.'

Last night's anger was borne from the deep anxiety that she wouldn't be able to save her friend. The rage she felt now was because that fear had come true. And the rage was not directed at some book, but at herself.

The contractions weren't so painful now, but they were becoming more regular. And Booger was back. There weren't any more gymnastics, only a steady tap-tap-tap just above Mariko's navel. Her left hand automatically stroked the spot, and the tapping intensified. As it did so, a feeling of warmth spread across her chest. She lifted her hand from her belly and the baby's motion went back to a gentle, even rhythm. Mariko placed her hand back on the spot, the tapping increased as before, and the feeling of warmth returned, but stronger. She continued to play this 'game' with her unborn child until she heard her father's gentle rap on the Sloth's window.

"Okay, sweetie?" he asked. "Much pain?"

"Not bad," she replied.

"Coolio. When I saw that you were smiling to yourself, I knew it couldn't be too bad."

He was right. Mariko was smiling. She immediately felt bad for doing so, but, as soon as she put her hand back against her baby's "drumming," this guilt faded away.

In fact, during the ride to the hospital, whenever any distressing thought or unpleasant emotion threatened to overwhelm her, Mariko found that placing her hand over Booger put her almost completely at ease.

Almost. There was still one uncomfortable thought that Mariko couldn't chase away, even with Booger's help.

Had Kim passed without hearing Mariko call her "Mom"?

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The passage that gets Mariko so upset is from _The Moor's Last Sigh_ by Sir Salman Rushdie


	36. Shalom

I.

Kim was gone, and Mariko was free to share her secret.

This wasn't how the little girl had wanted things to go. But now that she had the chance, she needed to take it.

And it wasn't a secret, not really. It was more of a surprise, a surprise she planned on giving her best friend in the far future. But the excitement the surprise was causing her was sooo exciting, that the little girl knew she wouldn't be able to keep it to herself for that long. She needed to share the surprise with someone. And by sharing it, the surprise became a secret.

Besides, the secret might make MrsDrP feel better. Although she was hugging the mother of her best friend as tightly as she could, the older woman was still crying.

Mariko opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she remembered that Rina was still in the room. And, although she knew that Rina could keep a secret, it seemed more special if she told just Kim's mom.

She glanced again at the picture of baby Kim in the tub that had made the older woman so sad. Mariko cupped her hand against MrsDrP's ear and whispered.

Immediately, she knew she had made the right decision. When Kim's mom turned to face Mariko, her eyes were still teary, but they were shining, too.

"That's so sweet. Thank you." MrsDrP smiled, but then had a question. "But what if it's a boy?"

Mariko considered this. "Can't it be a boy's name, too?" she asked finally.

"Yes, now that I think about it," MrsDrP answered. "It can be."

"But she won't be a boy," Mariko stated with a five-year-old's unwavering certainty.

II.

When Ron and Mariko arrived at the hospital, Bubbe was there to meet them at the Emergency Room's entrance. The lead obstetrician was waiting for them at the front desk and ushered them to Mariko's delivery suite. All three suspected this level of attention had something to do with Bonnie's promise of giving the OBGYN Department an 'encouraging' heads-up when Ron called her about Mariko's water.

Justy arrived at the delivery suite as Dr. Rangan was beginning to administer Mariko's epidural.

"Hey! How are things going? Are you ok?"

"Hey, Beautiful," Mariko replied, stretching her right arm toward her husband. "You're just in time to hold my hand while they jab a five-foot needle into my spine." She was sitting hunched over in bed while the doctor performed her task on the aforementioned spine.

"Sounds like a good time." He kissed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Doing the jabbing is even more fun," the doctor smiled beneath her mask. "Now, Mariko, you _will_ start to feel that pinch right about now."

"Go for it, doc" Mariko said, her grip on Justy's hand increasing significantly.

Apart from shooting Justy a welcoming glance, Ron had been standing completely silent and still at his daughter's bedside. Never more so than at this crucial moment as Dr. Rangan completed her work.

"Hope, thank goodness!" Bonnie announced as she burst through the door. "I am so glad _you're_ the one that got the call. They wouldn't tell me -"

Dr. Rangan, whose hands had remained steady despite Bonnie's abrupt entrance, sighed. "Kinda busy here, Bon."

"Oh, shoot, sorry." Bonnie apologized.

A few minutes later Justy's parents and the Possibles entered the room. After everyone had greeted the expectant parents, Ann skirted around Bonnie and gave Ron a brief hug. "Everything okay?" she whispered.

He nodded with a smile.

"Okay, Mariko," Dr. Rangan said, edging away from the bed. "You should be all set now. Pain should start subsiding in the next few minutes."

"Coolio," Mariko grimaced.

"Really bad?" Justy asked her.

"About an 8," Mariko nodded.

"Pain scale?" Felix asked with trepidation.

"Richter Scale," Justy and Mariko explained in unison.

"Jinx," Justy said carelessly.

Mariko said nothing; she leaned back against the raised head of the bed and closed her eyes. Over the next few minutes as the small talk between the room's other occupants resumed, she remained completely silent.

Finally, her husband leaned in and whispered, "Still hurting?"

She shook her head.

"Something else?"

After a few moments, Mariko wiped her eyes and shook her head again.

"Ok. Let me know."

She opened her eyes and gave Justy a sad smile that managed to reveal and hide everything.

III.

"That's impossible!" Bonnie yelled at Monique. She had intended this as an internal comment, but her shock/exasperation was such that she ended up 'addressing' it to Mrs. Renton, the rest of the room at large, and a section of the outer hall.

"Although statistically highly improbable," Wade corrected her via Ron's speakerphone, "it is actually happening."

Bonnie gave her boyfriend's phone a brief, incandescent glare.

Monique had just returned from the nurse's station to find out why no one was responding to Mariko's urgent page requests. The story she had to share was, indeed, improbable.

Of the ten expectant mothers in the maternity ward that evening, nine went into the critical, yet deceptively-named, second stage of labor around nine forty-five. More-or-less simultaneously. And the lone holdout was Mariko.

That is, until nine fifty when Booger stopped waiting.

By that point, all the obstetricians and midwives were otherwise engaged with the other mothers-to-be.

After rapidly apologizing to Monique, Bonnie took a deep breath and began to roll up her sleeves. "Ron, can you look through those drawers and find me some gloves and a mask?" she asked, walking promptly to the suite's sink.

"Would you like an assist?" Ann asked, queuing up behind her and rolling up her own sleeves.

"If you don't mind, that'd be great, Dr. Possible."

"My pleasure, Dr. Rockwaller. My retirement party is on Saturday and this will make a great story for it."

"Oh, man," Mariko managed between breaths, "this is going to be so awkward."

"Turning off the cameras as we speak," Felix announced for all concerned.

"They weren't off before?" Mariko half-laughed.

"If trying _not_ to focus on the weirdness factor keeps you focused on what needs to get done," Monique confided to her daughter-in-law, "I say go with it, girl."

"And if _that_ doesn't work," Ron began and then leaned in to whisper, "remember that everyone in this room is family. So, it'll be chauncy."

Her father's encouragement had the unexpected effect of plunging Mariko into a vertiginous state of melancholy. Although it was true that everyone in the room, whether in person (Justy, Bubbe, the Rentons, Dr. R, Mr and MrsDrP) or digitally (Rina, Wade, Jim and Tim), _was_ her family, his words only reminded her of the one person who _wasn't_ in the room.

_And won't ever be again._

Mariko nodded to her father. And, with little other choice, smiled.

From that point on, events unfolded for her in a withdrawn, disconnected manner. She could hear words as they were being spoken to her and recognized the voice that replied to them as her own. But she felt apart from these conversations and from all that was happening.

Mariko drifted like this for so long that a small part of her worried that this might be how things were going to be from now on. That she might forever be severed from herself. However, before anxiety could blossom into foreboding, she felt a slight, warm flutter inside her. It was like the taps that Booger had given her on the ride to the hospital, but deeper. Warmer.

And she was back in time again.

"Good job, M," she heard Dr. R say. "Now stop pushing for just a moment. I'll say the word."

Glancing down quickly, Mariko could see that the look in Dr. R's eyes, which up to this point had been all business, contained points of relief, too.

"You're almost there, Mariko," Ann, standing just beyond Bonnie's hunched shoulders, was smiling from behind her mask.

Her father was holding her left hand in both of his; Justy's hands were being held tightly in her right.

"Okay, M, push!" Dr. R instructed.

When she did, Mariko felt the warm flutters multiply. They flowed from her middle up to her chest and down along the length of her legs. And then, suddenly, they stopped.

The room filled with the marvelous cacophony of her baby's first cry.

"There! I got you, girl," Dr. R said with an unmistakable smile in her voice. "Ann, can you hand Booger to Mom?"

"It's not 'Booger,'" Ann grinned as she took the baby. "Is she, Mariko?"

"No," Mariko gave an exhausted chuckle, "Her name—"

"Oh-God," Ann's breath caught as she glanced down at the infant's face. "Her eyes. They're … they're so…" She handed the baby to her mother.

Mariko was immediately lost in her child's sublime, undirected gaze. Deep emerald, sprinkled with highlights of cerulean, the eyes reminded her, once she had composed herself enough to consciously reflect upon them, of a shaded mountain pool in a half-remembered childhood dream.

"Wow," she breathed, as one of her tears landed on the baby's forehead. "You are so so beautiful, Kimberly."

_**Kim told Mariko that she had been given two lifetimes, but she was mistaken. She received three.** _

A second tear plopped squarely into Kim's left eye, causing her to squint and to exponentially increase the volume of her clamorous new-born screaming.

"I am so proud of you, sweetie," Ron said as he kissed the crown of his daughter's head. Then he added, with just a slight catch in his voice, "You didn't tell me you were going to name her Kim."

"I know," Mariko answered, looking up from her baby to share a brief look with Ann Possible, "it was a secret surprise."

"You did it." Justy kissed his wife's cheek and began to gently stroke his baby's chin with the back of his index finger.

"No, Beautiful," Mariko corrected him. " _We_ did it. _We_ made her."

"Someone sounds hungry," James Possible said, conspicuously wiping his glasses clear. "Maybe the new family could do with a little privacy."

"No, no," Mariko said as she attempted to get Kim to latch onto her right breast, "you're all welcome to stay."

"Oh no, we'll just get in the way," Wade said via his v-phone link. Jim and Tim echoed this sentiment with their own lame yet good-natured excuses to avoid the baby's first feeding session.

The members of Mariko and Justy's extended family who elected to stay provided the new parents with advice, swapped stories among themselves, and took turns walking the floor with Kim.

And although she ceased to cry and even occasionally drifted off during these short treks across the suite, Kim didn't sleep soundly unless she was laying skin-to-skin against Mariko's chest. Her head oriented to her mother's heartbeat.

IV.

The sudden departure from the red warmth of the dark into the white cold of the bright had been a severe shock. The worst has been the loss of the thrum which was both a sound and a feeling. Screaming, also a union of sound and feeling, tried to fill the void.

The thrum did occasionally return, the same as before but not so. Coupled with newer vibrations that faded in to surround and then retreated into the far distances brought a new dark. And as this new dark began, Kim was awash in a different kind of warmth. Less still but deeper so.

V.

"I have a question," Bonnie said as she snuggled up to Ron on the couch.

"Sure, Bon-squared," Ron replied, throwing his left arm around her shoulder and flipping off the television. "What's on your mind?"

"Where did it go?" she said, turning to face him with steady, unreadable eyes.

In the pregnant silence that followed, Ron unconsciously removed his arm from his girlfriend's shoulder and began to scratch the back of his neck.

"Where did what go?" He asked finally.

"The wall," she said, placing her palm gently against his chest.

"Uh," he began and then stopped.

She sighed. "Ron, when we started going out I knew the deal. You've been through so much that it was unreasonable, not to mention unfair, to expect that you'd be totally open with me."

"Bonnie-"

"No, listen. I was perfectly fine with it. There were some parts of yourself that you just wouldn't be able to share with me. Of course, that is what I told myself. But after repeating that for years it got so … Well, maybe, in some weird way, that was just me building my own boundary to keep myself from getting hurt."

"Bon—"

She placed her fingers to his lips. "You don't have to say anything. My point is that a few months ago I began to doubt that I _could_ accept never breaching your wall, and then just recently it … it disappeared." She suddenly enveloped him in one of the tightest hugs he had ever been given.

He hugged her back as tightly, and they held it for what seemed an ocean of time.

"Well?" Bonnie whispered pointedly in his ear. "Are you going to answer the question?"

"Oh!" Ron laughed as the hug broke. Then realizing that he was nervously rubbing his neck, he laughed again. "I think KSR took it."

"KSR?" She shook her head. "Are you _actually_ calling Kimmie that?"

"Well-," Ron smiled and nodded.

"Well, of course you are." She massaged her right temple as she regarded him with bemused exasperation.

It was an expression with which Ron was exceedingly familiar. And then it abruptly changed into one he had only _thought_ he had seen for a few fleeting seconds maybe once or twice since they began dating.

"I think you're right," she smiled, her aqua eyes shining at him. "I think she did."

VI.

"Kimmie! What have I told you about running too fast for mommy?" Mariko, backpack over her left shoulder diaper bag sliding down her right, felt ready to collapse as she entered the already opened back door of her father's house. Ever since her daughter learned to walk three months earlier, she had been futilely trying to keep pace with the toddler. A toddler who had now, apparently, learned to open doors.

_Can she even reach that knob?_

"Dad," Mariko called after catching her breath, "we're here!"

She dumped her bags among open cereal boxes on the kitchen table and wandered into the immaculately-kept living room. Mariko found it amusing that although Dr. S had made good on her vow to keep their house clean, chaos still reigned in the kitchen. Almost two years since the wedding and it looked just as wrecked as it ever had. That said, she did note that the 'lotus pan' was no longer resting in the seat of one of the kitchen chairs—as it had been for the past month of Wednesdays.

She collapsed onto the couch and immediately yelped. "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" her father called from upstairs.

"Sat on my keys,' Mariko called back.

"Swee Tie?"

She turned her head and discovered her daughter, holding a ball twice the size of her head. Kim's large brown eyes were full of concern.

"Don't worry, Kimmie, Mommy's okay."

Mariko closed her eyes and rested her head against the couch's back pillow. Her current schedule was so exhausting. With Justy starting his new second shift position at the Space Center and her teaching classes at both Middleton and Lowerton Community Colleges, she typically spent her Wednesdays (the one day when her father could baby-sit Kim) catching up on her sleep rather than catching up with the professional/household obligations for which such breaks were initially meant. And, more often than not, these impromptu naps took place on her father's couch.

As she drifted off to the sound of Kimmie bouncing that ball about the living room, Mariko found her mind wandering back to her daughter's eyes. Although they had gradually changed in color (as the eyes of most children with Caucasian heritage typically did), the small bright points of cerulean had remained. The afterimage of these points, in fact, were still floating across the black field of Mariko's mind. Maybe 'floating' wasn't the correct word. They were bouncing. Bouncing to the beat of the ball against the living room's hardwood floor.

"Be careful, Kimmie. Don't bounce that ball too high." Mariko heard herself say. She immediately regretted this directive. The rhythm of the bounces dramatically increased. Instead of long, high bounces, her daughter was giving it short rapid bounces. Which were, of course, more distracting.

"Not so fast, Kimmie. Mommy's trying to sleep."

"Okay. Swee Tie."

Mariko smiled. It wasn't that the little girl couldn't say 'Mama'; she just preferred trying to call her "Sweetie." It was cute.

As the bounces became more languid, Mariko found herself drifting off again. Instead of her daughter's eyes, her drowsy thoughts began to orbit around the new-found toy. As the time between bounces varied, its size in her mind's eye also changed. It would become small enough to fit in Kimmie's hand one second and twice as large as the little girl the next. It floated gently across the room, barely touching the floor, and then suddenly expanded to be large enough to fill the entire room with her daughter securely riding on top. When had her father got it? And wasn't it a strange color, too?

"Hey there, KSR!" Ron's voice intruded into her reverie. "Say, where did you get that ball?"

Mariko's eyes sprung open at this question.

"What do you mean, Dad?" she said sitting up. "Didn't you buy it for her?"

"Nope, sure didn't."

"Maybe Bonnie got it?" Mariko suggested. She had no idea why, but she was suddenly feeling very anxious.

"I can't imagine when," Ron answered. "Before her shift today? Not likely. I mean I've never seen that before in my—" He gave a quick glance back to the kitchen and then slowly got down to his knees. "Hey, KSR. Can you pass that to Zeyde?"

With a happy squeal, Kim gave the ball a two-handed bounce to her grandfather.

He caught it with both hands. A half second later there was a flash of blue light, and Ron was holding a frying pan.

"Let me get you something better to play with," he smiled. He stood and placed the 'lotus pan' on top of Bonnie's tallest bookcase. Before the child could even complain, he had taken his brand-new v-phone from his back pocket and carelessly handed it to her. Kim gave a delighted, not-wholly-innocent laugh, and ran from the room with the device.

Mariko discovered that her mouth had gone seriously dry. "K-Kim is the Lotus Child."

Ron was staring fixedly at the floor. For a long while the only sounds to be heard were the beeps and chirps coming from his v-phone in the next room.

"Yes, she is," he said finally.

She was dismayed to see that he was wearing his most 'serious' face.

"She is the redeemer of Yamanouchi. She will herald a new golden age and sweep away the centuries of darkness."

As her father spoke each of these words, Mariko's heart retreated deeper and deeper within her chest.

"That is, you know," Ron gave a languid shrug, "if college doesn't work out."

"Huh?" Mariko was totally flummoxed by her father's sudden shift in tone.

"Well, it'll be up to her, right?"

"Yeah," Mariko nodded as she grasped what her father was saying and found that she very much agreed. "Yeah. We'll tell her when the time is right and then let her decide." Then a disconcerting thought occurred to her. "Does it work that way? Aren't prophesies kinda inescapable? You don't choose them they choose you, right?"

"As a former 'Chosen One,'" Ron smiled, "I can tell you that prophesy or no prophesy your destiny-your life is _always_ up to you."

Father and daughter continued to smile even after sounds from the other room made it plain that his v-phone could not survive its encounter with the Lotus Child.

VII.

Kim awoke crying from a nightmare. Again.

She didn't have nightmares often, but when she did, they happened over multiple nights. Sometimes for almost a week. And then they would disappear for the better part of a year or longer, but, eventually, they would return. They had started way back when she was three.

Mariko became so concerned when they first began that she had taken Kim to the doctor. The visit had not gone well. For the first reason, Kim had assumed 'go to the doctor' meant 'visit GrandBon.' But the doctor had _not_ been her grandmother; in fact, the doctor had been _a man_. Secondly, this doctor said that Kim wasn't having nightmares, he said she was having 'night terrors.' That sounded much, much worse. Third, he said that nothing could be done to stop them.

Fortunately, he had been wrong. Kim's mom knew exactly what do. She let her sleep in the big bed with her and her daddy for a while. That worked until her daddy's back started to hurt from sleeping in the recliner too often and her mom's shoulder started hurting from landing on the floor too many times after getting kicked off the side of the bed by Kim while she slept.

Rinabull had come to the rescue. She had suggested 'Rabbit' to Kim's mom as a possible solution to the little girl's nightmares. And he had worked. Whenever she slept with 'Rabbit', she almost without exception slept through the night. On the rare instances when he couldn't keep Kim's 'night terrors' away entirely, 'Rabbit' was there to comfort her in the dark. Although he had sat on her mother's dresser for as long as Kim could remember, the smell of his fabric always reminded her of Rinabull's old bedroom and would, like magic, calm her down so she could go back to sleep.

The reason for that, of course, was that he had originally lived in Rinabull's old bedroom; he had originally belonged to Rinabull's older sister who had also lived in that room, so 'Rabbit' was _very_ very old. Black and white with long ears and legs, he reminded Kim immediately of a rabbit from one of her storybooks, so that it what she named him. Kim kept meaning to name the baby that 'Rabbit' held on his chest, but she always thought of them as one and the same, so she kept forgetting.

Tonight, however, there was a problem. 'Rabbit' was gone. Even after turning on her light and looking under her bed, Kim couldn't find him.

"Okay, Princess?" asked her daddy standing just outside her door in the darkness of the hallway.

For a reason that she could no longer remember, Kim always hated it when someone called her a princess. Except, that is, when that someone was her daddy.

"I can't find Rabbit anywhere," she said, checking under her pillow for the umpteenth time. Her growing concern was evident in her trembling voice. Although she always tried to present her bravest face to everyone—even, most times, to her mother, Kim never hid her 'messier' feelings from her daddy.

"Another bad dream?" He asked walking over to her bed.

"Uh-huh," she nodded. She stared blankly at her pillow and wiped at the tears pooling under her eyes.

"Wanna try finding him together?"

"Okay," she sniffed in a calmer if not hopeful tone.

Justy rechecked the places his daughter had already looked (under the bed, under the pillow, in her closet) and in the less likely places she had been unable to check (in the half inch of space behind her bookcase and the wall—Rabbit was squishy, so it was _possible_ he could have gotten lodged there). Of course, Kim looked on top of her wardrobe, too. (She wasn't allowed to 'go blue' and levitate unless an adult was present and _never_ in public). Finally, they made a pilgrimage across the hall just in case she had left him in the bathroom and, perhaps, in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.

After a couple of minutes of dejected silence back on her bed, he asked her, "Was it still nothing, Princess?"

"Yeah," she sighed. The most awful thing about her nightmares, as far as Kim was concerned, was that she could never remember what they were about. Her friends in kindergarten reported having bad dreams about dragons, monsters, clowns and on and on. One friend, Chip, even reported being chased by a dragon dressed like a clown. She, on the other hand, had bad dreams about nothing. Even if she dreamed about being chased by a clown dragon, it would be better than nothing.

"I used to dream about ghosts."

"Yeah?" Kim asked. "Did they scare you?"

"Oh, yeah." Her daddy nodded, looking at the floor. "A lot. GrandMon used to sit on my bed until I fell back asleep."

"Kinda like you do with me?" Kim said.

He squeezed her shoulder. "Uh-huh. Just like this." Then he noticed a knot forming between her eyebrows. "What are you thinking, Princess?"

"What if," she hesitated, "what if these nightmares never go away?"

"They will. Mine did."

As kindly as they had been spoken, her father's words didn't bring Kim any comfort at all. She could make nightmares about ghosts stop. Easy. Ghosts weren't real. But how could she stop having dreams about nothing? Nothing _was_ real, wasn't it?

"Did GrandMon tell you ghosts weren't real?" she asked sadly.

"She did," her father replied. "But that didn't stop the dreams."

"It didn't?" His statement filled Kim with a mixture of confusion and hope. The solution wasn't what she expected. And maybe, just maybe, what worked for her daddy would work for her, too. "What made the dreams stop?"

"Finding out that she wrong." He gave her a warm smile. "That ghosts are real."

"Whaa-?"

"I saw one."

Kim didn't say anything for a long time. She just stared gob smacked at her father, who was still giving her that same kind-hearted smile as if he had just said something completely normal, like that he loved her.

"Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"Please AND thank you." Kim sidled closer to her father and draped his right arm around her own shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, her father turned off her bedroom light and Kim snuggled deeply into her comforter. Her head was abuzz with so many thoughts and ideas. Ghosts were real. Her daddy had seen one. And the one he had seen was trying to make her Zeyde feel better. And, if a ghost could do that without the person knowing, maybe there was one trying to do that for her when she felt sad or lonely. Just remembering the excitement in her father's voice as he told the story made her feel so warm, like whenever she ran really fast or had been dancing.

_I feel so awake! There's no way I can fall asleep now!_

Justy went downstairs for a glass of water before returning to bed. As he was crossing the living room to the kitchen, he noticed something on the floor beneath the dining table.

_There you are._

He sat 'Rabbit' on the kitchen countertop as he poured his drink. How his daughter could mistake it for a bunny was a real mystery. Sure, it had long ears and its feet were vaguely rabbit-like, but its elongated tail looked nothing like a cotton puff. And, of course, there was the baby on its pouch.

Justy smiled. He couldn't really blame her, though. Cuddlebuddies had been mash-ups of two or more different animals. And this one really didn't look enough like either of its component animals. He could see some features that resembled a kangaroo, but the only panda attribute was that it was black and white.

He finished his drink and picked up the stuffy. Without thinking, he slipped his index finger into the loop of its tag, sewn into the seam where the tail joined the rest of its body. He had had this same habit with his stuffed animals when he was a little kid. As he unhooked his finger, something about the tag caught his eye.

When he left the kitchen a few moments later, Justy was a bundle of kid-style giddiness. He bounded up the stairs and down the hall toward his daughter's half-closed door. In the second before he stuck his head into her room, the thought struck him that his careless (and noisy) approach might have disturbed her.

_Was I skipping just now?_

Fortunately, Kim was fast asleep. Her snores, although not as cavernous as her mother's, were significant and indicated that her sleep was deep. He gently lay 'Rabbit' by her side and tiptoed from the room.

As Justy snuggled next Mariko, whose sleep had also not been disturbed by his skipping, his mind was abuzz.

_There's no way I can sleep now!_

He wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't just been telling Kim about the ghost. And it could still be a simple coincidence or a synchronicity. But, then again, what if it wasn't?

Ten years earlier on the night of his first date, Justy had awakened in a Middleton Memorial bed. After learning that Mariko was safe and the immense relief that news produced began to ebb, several mysteries confronted him. Chief among these was how he had gotten to the hospital. Dr. Rockwaller's story filled most of the gaps. He vaguely remembered speaking to her on the Sloth's v-phone; yet, he didn't remember making the call. And he certainly could not explain how he made it to the car in the first place. He only had hazy recollections of speaking to someone and of the branches of the park's trees moving above his head. And being kissed. But he couldn't be sure if these were real memories or just dreams that occurred afterwards while he was sedated. In wildly optimistic moments, he interpreted these as evidence that 'his' ghost had somehow returned and helped him. More often, he just assumed he had stumbled through the snow on his own and his concussion had wiped that memory away.

However, there was one detail from the event that stood out for Justy. It wasn't a half-remembered hallucination, either. It was something real, something witnessed by others. Although insignificant in the scope of the traumatic episode, it was the one detail that he still found himself thinking about from time to time.

His hospital bed had come equipped with a touchpad. At some point in the night, even though he was heavily sedated and, supposedly, unconscious, he had gotten his hands on the device, turned it on, launched a messaging application and begun to type a message before dropping the device to the floor.

This was not outside the realm of possibility. The 'supposedly unconscious' had been known to perform all sorts of complicated tasks in such a state. However, it was the cryptic 'message' that had been discovered on the device when it was powered on that had remained with him. And, despite all the logical reasons to the contrary, Justy had believed, or at least wanted to believe, that the 'message' was from his ghost.

Written in a child's hand on Rabbit's tag was the same 'message': K A P.

VIII.

After kindergarten let out on Thursday afternoons, Kim would stay at her 'Godparents'' house while her mother was teaching in Lowerton. Although she was being raised in her mother's faith and there was no Jewish equivalent for godparents, this was the title Justy and Mariko happily gave the Possibles and that they happily accepted. It made a certain kind of sense, too. They were 'caretakers' of Kim's morality in many ways. For example, it was well-known that Kim had learned "Please and thank you" from them. Even though neither James or Ann could remember exactly when they had first taught her the phrase.

It had been a long time since Kim learned what their real first names were and how to pronounce their last name properly; however, she still called them by the names she had used when she was first learning to talk. This arrangement pleased everyone involved.

'Bullmommy' always had an old-fashioned board game set up for the two of them to play. When the game was over, Kim invariably spent the rest of her visit sitting with her 'Bulldaddy' in his large recliner watching old tv shows. His favorite show was about a space captain, and he was always very excited for her to watch it with him. She always nodded 'yes' to his invitations although she secretly found the show kinda boring. That didn't matter because she loved sitting with him, and, besides, they both usually fell asleep long before an episode was half over.

One day, when her mother arrived to pick her up and Bullmommy had rustled them awake, Bulldaddy had given her his usual farewell hug. Then something strange happened.

"Goodbye, Kimmie Cub," he said drowsily before closing his eyes again.

Although he had never used that funny name before, Kim replied without hesitation, as if she had heard it a million times before. "Goodbye, Bulldaddy."

On the ride back home, she had wondered if Bulldaddy was going to keep using that funny name for her. If he did, she would have to come up with a funny name for him, too. But it would have to be perfect. She lay awake in bed that night for what seemed like forever trying to come up with something both perfect and funny. Then she remembered the thing that the space captain always said in every episode of that old show.

"Rockets-a-Godaddy."

It didn't make her laugh when she first said it, but it did make her smile. And each time she repeated it, it sounded funnier. She couldn't wait to try it out with him on her next Thursday visit.

But before the next Thursday came, Bulldaddy was gone.

Not many days after the funeral, Kim decided that she was going to tell Bullmommy about the nickname that she never got to share. But right before she did, she changed her mind. Telling Bullmommy about it might make her feel even sadder. And no one who had loved Bulldaddy deserved that. Instead, she asked Bullmommy if she could sit in her lap. Once she was there, they hugged each other until they both feel asleep.

A few days later Kim remembered her father's ghost story and happily realized that it might _still_ be possible to share the nickname.

For the next several weeks right before she fell asleep, Kim would say 'Goodnight, Rockets-a-Godaddy' to the silent darkness of her bedroom.

Just in case someone might be there to hear.

IX.

"Mom? Did you know about Bullmommy's daughter?" Kim was struggling to fish the last pieces of soggy cereal from her bowl. "Not Rinabull, but the one who died?"

After a second's hesitation that her daughter did not notice, Mariko answered, "Yes."

"Did you know that she and Zeyde were best friends?"

"I did."

"Did you know that she and Zeyde saved the world together?"

Mariko sat down in the kitchen chair next to her daughter. "Yep."

"Like over and over and over again?"

Mariko smiled as she watched the excitement build across her daughter's features as the little girl spoke.

"Bullmommy has this video of like all the times they did it. And she showed it to me yesterday."

"Really?" She offered her daughter a napkin. "You've got milk on your chin."

Kim ignored the napkin. "Yes, and she was amazing. The jumps, the kicks, the kung fu."

"Karate?" Mariko asked as she wiped her daughter's chin.

"Yes, that, too. And, did you know what else, mom?"

"What?"

"Her name was Kim, too."

Mariko nodded.

"Weird."

"No, not so weird."

Kim was quiet for the next few moments. Mariko watched as her daughter laid down her spoon and stared idly into her almost empty bowl. Her eyes flashed blue for an instant and the last piece of cereal floated languidly into her waiting mouth. Mariko toyed with the notion of asking Kim what she was thinking, but she didn't get the chance.

"I'd like to do that," Kim said in a hushed voice.

"Like to do what?"

She smiled up at her mother, "Help people." Then she blushed. "Save the world."

"Maybe you will someday."

"Really?" Kim gave her mother a cocked eyebrow that, for once, expressed confusion rather than six-and-half-year-old sass as it usually did.

Mariko gave the otherwise empty kitchen a once over to make sure no one was listening. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Please and thank you," Kim nodded.

Mariko leaned into her daughter's ear and whispered, "You're named _after_ her."

Kim didn't reply, didn't even seem to be breathing for a minute or so, but her eyes grew larger than Mariko would have believed was humanly possible.

"Boo-yah," Kim spoke softly at last.

Although the word may have belonged to her father, the smile that punctuated it couldn't help but remind Mariko of her very best friend.

Normally, any such remembrance would be followed by a sting of melancholy. However, this time, Mariko found that the emotion produced was quite the opposite.

X.

Kim had trouble remembering her dreams. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She could remember her dreams, but not _all_ of them. Every morning she would try in vain to recall everything that happened in her sleep, but her dreams were just _so full_.

Almost without exception they concerned the _other_ Kim and her many adventures with Zeyde. In some of the dreams she was observing the action from a distance-as if she were re-watching scenes from Bullmommy's video through binoculars. More often, however, she saw the action from the other Kim's point-of-view, as if she were performing the kicks and jumps herself. Although many of these dreams seemed to be replays of those she had seen in the video or had the same events placed in a different order or with different elements, there were some dreams that were 'new'. These dreams were of escapades she was wholly unfamiliar with—adventures from her own imagination, apparently. In any case, she could never remember them all when she awoke.

It might be assumed that having adventures all night would make a little girl very tired in the morning. But instead, Kim always felt refreshed and ready to go when waking from these dreams. And without question, they made her feel much better than when she used to wake up from the night terrors.

Oddly, she couldn't remember the last time she had had one of those terrifying 'nothing' dreams. Had she ever had one since the night her father told her about his ghost? She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to think too hard to figure that out, either.

Stranger still, she couldn't remember exactly when the night adventures with the other Kim had begun. She assumed they started after she watched Bullmommy's video, but now she wasn't so sure about that, either.

And then there was the Other Dream.

At first Kim didn't realize that she was having the same dream again and again over several nights. Rather, she believed that she was waking up on multiple mornings with a memory of a single dream that had had happened only once at some point a few weeks earlier. Then one day she realized that couldn't be right because each morning when she had this 'memory,' she was remembering different things about the dream—new things. The dream was changing, getting longer and more detailed each time she dreamt it.

Early on, she assumed it was a dream about space. She was overlooking a field of stars that were shimmering a great distance beneath her. Gradually, she also noticed the sound of the wind in the distance, so she couldn't have been in space. Maybe she was floating over the ocean and was seeing a reflection of the night sky. If so, the rocking of the waves might explain why the stars seemed to be moving ever so slightly.

A few mornings later, she knew that wasn't right, either. She could hear the wind clearly and it was brushing through tree tops. If she had been floating over an ocean, she wouldn't have heard the rustle of leaves. Perhaps, she was on the edge of a very large lake instead. A lake in the mountains.

As soon as Kim thought the word 'mountains,' the images in her mind shifted. The stars weren't stars. They were lights. And the lights weren't moving, not exactly. They were fading in and out, but they were staying in the same places.

About a week later Kim realized that the sound of the wind through the trees was not, as she had first remembered, just coming from above and behind her. The sound was also coming from beneath her, it was coming from the darkness between those tiny lights. It wasn't a body of water she was seeing. It was a valley, and the lights were from windows in buildings and in homes. She was watching over a valley full of villages.

Each time Kim had this dream, the picture became clearer with more details. Like a moving painting, the dream grew deeper and more beautiful with each visit. She always awoke from it with an intense feeling of calm, warmth, and anticipation.

She just couldn't wait to see how the dream would turn out.

XI.

Zeyde had wanted to take Kim to the park for weeks, but the weather always turned nasty whenever he had some free time. So, on the next beautiful clear day, he took the afternoon off from the Nosh Hut and picked up his granddaughter after school.

The park's other visitors were bemused by the sight of the man and the little girl chasing each other around the grounds squealing and laughing. This was especially true since the higher-pitched squeals were often emanating from the man. More than a few visitors made the incorrect, if entirely understandable, assumptions that the man was the girl's father and that they were playing tag.

Although their play had aspects of tag, hide-and-seek, and follow-the-leader, it wasn't as formal as any of these games. The fact was they loved running around like crazy whenever they were together. And doing so until they both collapsed in the grass, panting and laughing. Eventually, one of them, usually Kim, would recover enough to bound up off the ground and charge off in a new direction, and, the other, usually Ron, would struggle to their feet and give chase.

This cycle had repeated itself a half dozen times when Kim stood up and realized that Zeyde wasn't where she thought he was going to be.

He was standing motionless in front of what looked to Kim like a drinking fountain. But he wasn't getting a drink, he was just looking down at it. As she got closer, she noticed that instead of a bubbling spigot, the 'fountain' had what looked like stone vines at the top. Maybe it was a birdbath, but she couldn't see or hear any water.

"Zeyde?"

He didn't respond, only kept looking down at the top of the whateveritwas. She didn't like the look on his face. He looked … old. Although Zeyde was her grandfather, he always seemed so much younger than her friends' grandparents and even younger than her GrandMon and GrandTon, who didn't look particularly old, either.

But Zeyde looked old now. And sad.

His hands were limp and half open at his sides. Hesitantly, she curled her fingers around the index finger of his right hand. After a moment, he gave her fingers a slight squeeze, and his face softened somewhat.

Suddenly, Kim realized what the fountain thing was. Her father had pointed it out to her when he had taken her to the park almost a year ago. It was a shrine they had built to remember Bullmommy's Kim.

_Zeyde's Kim._

If what he felt was anything like the sadness Bullmommy felt when Rockets-a-Godaddy had died, how could she ever make him feel better?

After a few moments of painful silence, she said the only thing that felt right. "I'm here."

Without looking at her, Zeyde replied, "I know you are, Kim. I know you are."

Then in one fluid motion, he swept her off the ground and planted her on his shoulders. They were both laughing even before he began to run.

As they made their frantic way passed the newly restored and enlarged Silver Gazebo, Kim found herself thinking about heaven. Not the place, but the word.

She had noticed how people used words like 'heaven', 'wonderful,' and 'perfect' when they wanted to talk about moments just like this one. But, really, words didn't work—they couldn't possibly explain how she was feeling. But, they were best you could do.

So, for that moment in time, and, really, whenever she was with her Zeyde, Kim Stoppable-Renton was in Heaven.


End file.
